


they have stolen the heart from inside you [but this does not define you]

by aeriamamaduck



Series: The Next Level of Life and Love [28]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Absent Parents, Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Arguing, Blow Jobs, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Comfort Sex, Communication, Depression, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Drama, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Grief/Mourning, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Heavy Angst, Kissing, Lack of Communication, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Marriage, Married Couple, Minor Character Death, Mother-Son Relationship, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Original Character Death(s), POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 01, Post-Series, Relationship(s), Religion, Shower Sex, Smoking, Supportive Katsuki Yuuri, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-12-08 10:24:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11644590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriamamaduck/pseuds/aeriamamaduck
Summary: Yuuri's fingers gently carded through Victor's hair, and Victor felt tears sting his eyes. He'd really been sitting here for more than an hour? No wonder he felt so stiff. He felt tears slide down his cheeks and watched Yuuri's eyes widen with alarm. His husband sat down beside him, throwing an arm around his shoulders, and asked, "Victor, what's wrong? Talk to me."He felt thrown by the question, feeling foolish for not being to answer right away. He knew what was wrong, knew he should tell Yuuri.He breathed, focused on Yuuri's arm wrapped securely around him, and said, "My father's dead."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after **don't you dare look back [just keep your eyes on me]**.

** Victor **

 

The phone's persistent ring woke Victor up from his sleep.

 

Groaning softly as he sat up and rubbed his eyes tiredly, he tried to guess what time it was. His eyes found the glowing screen of his phone as it vibrated on the nightstand.

 

He inhaled sharply when he saw the contact name on the screen.

 

Yuuri stirred beside him and Victor bit his lip guiltily for the call waking his husband up. Yuuri had a hard enough time getting up in the morning. Retrieving the phone, Victor saw that it was a little after 4 a.m.. Just a couple of hours of sleep left. Makkachin lifted his head up in confusion from where he lay at their feet.

 

"Victor?" Yuuri asked in a sleepy slur.

 

Victor leaned in to kiss Yuuri's forehead and gave his hair a soothing stroke. "Go back to sleep,  _detka_. I have to take this."

 

Yuuri made a soft noise before relaxing once again and Victor answered the call to stop the ringing. He quickly got out of bed, patting Makkachin in a silent appeal to stay put, and walked out of the room.

 

He waited until he got to the living room before putting the phone to his ear and quietly saying in Russian, "Hello, Mama."

 

 _"Victor_." Was that relief he heard in her voice? There was a hint of weariness and what sounded like sadness.

 

He sat on the sofa and gave his back a stretch, frowning in mild concern as he wondered why she was calling him. "I wasn't expecting a call this late, Mama," he said, hoping he didn't sound as irritated as he felt. It wasn't the late hour that had him feeling this way. "We missed you and Papa at the wedding."

 

That was the real reason, and Victor couldn't help but remind her of how she and his father refused to attend his wedding to Yuuri two months ago supposedly because they felt he was making a mistake tying himself down to his student/competition.

 

It had devastated Yuuri and infuriated Victor, but they moved past it. Yuuri did, at least, and Victor was an anxious wreck for weeks as the refusal reminded him that Yuuri could just as easily decide not to make Victor a part of his life. While Yuuri was indeed nervous on their wedding day, Victor had been frozen with panic, knowing Yuuri was too good for him. 

 

But they'd gotten married, Yuuri never letting his hand go during the entire ceremony. Basking in Yuuri's love, and that of their friends and family, Victor could almost forget the ache of his parents' absence.

 

"Is anything wrong?" he asked now, annoyed that his mother had nothing to say about missing out on the most important day of his life.

 

There were some indiscernible noises on the other end of the line, and Victor could swear he heard her sigh raggedly before she quietly said, _"Your father is dead, Vitya."_

 

Victor's heart gave hard, painful pound at the words, silent for a few moments and loosely holding on to the phone as he grasped just what she'd said. "...What?"

 

_"It was a stroke. He was...sitting up late in his office reviewing patient files. You know how he is."_

 

 _No, I don't,_ he wanted to shout.  _We barely spoke ten words to each other in twenty years._

 

_"...It was getting late, so I went to remind him he needed to sleep. I found him slumped over on his desk...The doctors said it was very quick. He couldn't have felt much pain, if any."_

 

Victor heard the hope in her voice. As angry as he was with them, he couldn't imagine walking into a room alone only to find that your spouse was...

 

No. He never wanted to imagine that. Yuuri was sleeping. He was  _fine_. Healthy. Thriving and beautiful. 

 

He tried to speak but his voice caught in his throat at the first try. "...Were...were there any signs?"

 

_"None. But it was the same with your grandfather Ilya. Completely unexpected."_

 

That's right. Victor had very dim memories of being three years old and in his mother's arms during his paternal grandfather's funeral. He wasn't a young man but he had been very healthy. Barely taking notice of his shaky breaths, Victor asked softly, "How are you, Mama?"

 

_"I'm...just here. What else can I do, Vitya?"_

 

Victor didn't know what to say. He just knew that he was frightened by how defeated she sounded. He remembered her being hard as steel, and so very cold. It was almost as if her heart had become glass.

 

_"Will you come to the funeral? It's tomorrow afternoon. You should be able to drive in on time for the mass if you leave early."_

 

The drive to Gatchina was around an hour and a half from Saint Petersburg, but it wasn't one he'd bothered making once he was able to drive. Victor nodded and replied, "Yes. Yuuri and I will be there."

 

He hadn't thought twice before mentioning Yuuri, forgetting for a moment that his parents hadn't wanted any kind of relationship with him. It wasn't the best way to introduce Yuuri to his mother, he realized. Hell, if she and his father had come to the wedding they both could have met Yuuri before his father...

 

His mother was silent, and asked in an almost too-light tone,  _"Won't it interfere with his practice?"_

 

Victor managed to keep from throwing the phone against the wall, merely replying with finality, "He's coming with me, Mama." No way would he do this without Yuuri, and he wasn't going to leave Yuuri alone here either. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered crossly, "Just... please let me have the details so I can book a hotel."

 

 _"Don't bother,"_ she said with a sigh.  _"You can stay in the guest room. Your old room, that is."_

 

Part of him was pleasantly surprised by the offer. The rest of him bitterly reflected on how fast they seemed to erase evidence of his existence once he stopped living with them, going as far as turning his room into a guest room. Still, it meant he didn't have to go through the process of booking a hotel, even if it seemed like a better alternative any other time. "...Thank you, Mama."

 

He jotted down more details on the notepad he kept on the coffee table, one he usually reserved for scrawling hurried notes for programs, and they finally hung up.

 

It occurred to Victor that neither of them had said 'I love you.'

 

Saying it to Yuuri was like breathing. He couldn't remember saying it to his mother even if he remembered being little and wanting nothing more than to please her and have her hold him. It was much the same with his father, who at least smiled at him more, but was still a reserved man.

 

Victor didn't know how long he'd been sitting on the sofa, staring at the notepad. 

 

His handwriting was so messy when he was in a hurry.

 

He remembered being so careful and full of pride when he was a five-year-old writing his name in blue crayon.  _Victor Leonidovich Nikiforov._

 

He barely acknowledged his patronymic a decade later. Being Victor Nikiforov was enough for him (or at least he thought it was most of the time).

 

After meeting the Katsukis he realized with finality that Leonid would never be Toshiya. Nadezhda would never be Hiroko.

 

He supposed he should have remembered that before getting the bright idea to invite them to the wedding. He just figured it wouldn't hurt to hope that they would say yes, that they'd come and be delighted that Yuuri was going to become their son-in-law.

 

Not everything in his life could be perfect, he supposed.

 

Makkachin finally appeared, whining in distress as he gave Victor's hand a lick and didn't get a response. Victor felt cold, colder than if it were winter, and began to shiver. It was July 19th...

 

His father died on July 19th.

 

Victor barely noticed Makkachin pad away, or the worried yips coming from the bedroom.

 

Moments later Yuuri appeared in front of him, crouching on the floor with a look of worry on his face. "Victor?" he asked quietly, though his voice rang like a bell in Victor's ear. "It's almost 5:30. Have you been here all night?"

 

His fingers gently carded through Victor's hair, and Victor felt tears sting his eyes. He'd really been sitting here for more than an  _hour?_ No wonder he felt so stiff. He felt tears slide down his cheeks and watched Yuuri's eyes widen with alarm. His husband sat down beside him, throwing an arm around his shoulders, and asked, "Victor, what's wrong? Talk to me."

 

He felt thrown by the question, feeling foolish for not being to answer right away. He knew what was wrong, knew he should tell Yuuri.

 

He breathed, focused on Yuuri's arm wrapped securely around him, and said, "My father's dead."

 

Victor heard Yuuri gasp softly and his resolve suddenly snapped. He turned and buried his face in Yuuri's chest with a sob, his emotions turning into a big, confusing mess. Yuuri held him close, letting him cry as his warm hands slowly stroked his shaking back. "I'm so sorry, Vitka," Yuuri said softly, and Victor could only sob harder in response.

 

He didn't know why he was crying like this, but it felt so damn good.

 

Minutes later he found himself lying across the sofa on his side, his head on Yuuri's thigh as the younger man calmly stroked his hair. Makkachin lay curled at his feet, quiet and observant. 

 

"What time is it?" he asked hoarsely once his tears were spent.

 

"Almost six," Yuuri answered. He reached for Victor's discarded phone and added, "I'll call Yakov. Do you know when the funeral is? That is...are we...?"

 

"It's tomorrow afternoon. In Gatchina." He squeezed Yuuri's knee and pleaded, "Please come with me."

 

"Of course I will," Yuuri said quietly as he lay a hand on Victor's trembling shoulder. Victor heard the line ring and then the sound of Yakov's gruff greeting. "Good morning, coach. This is Yuuri," the younger man greeted, keeping his voice low. "Victor and I...we won't be coming to practice. He just got some bad news over the phone. H-his father died."

 

Someone else had said the words and sent them out into the universe, making them real. At least Yuuri had done it as gently as he could. 

 

He didn't hear Yakov's reply, but Yuuri said, "He's right here, he's just...not doing too well. The funeral's tomorrow in Gatchina, and I'll be joining him...Yes, thank you, coach. One second." He covered the receiver and gently asked Victor, "Did you want to talk to him?"

 

Victor shook his head and closed his eyes. "I don't want to talk to anyone else right now."

 

Yuuri nodded with a tender smile and turned his attention back to the phone. "Now's not a good time, coach. I'm sorry...Yes, I'll keep you posted. Goodbye." He hung up and started to thread his fingers in Victor's hair, the older man focusing on the gentle attention. "I'll start looking for a hotel. Don't worry about anything."

 

Victor's chest ached sweetly at Yuuri's words, and he swallowed before explaining, "We...we're staying with my mother."

 

Yuuri inhaled sharply and was silent for a few moments before asking quietly, "...Won't she mind-?"

 

"I don't give a fuck what she minds," Victor spat out, burying his face in Yuuri's thigh. Maybe it was the wrong way to speak about his newly-widowed mother, but he was still so hurt and angry.

 

"Okay," Yuuri said in calm acceptance, keeping his hand on Victor's head. "You had an appointment with Sergei this week, right?"

 

 _Shit_. His therapy appointment. Yet another call he didn't feel like making. "Can you please ask him to move it to next week, Yuuri?" 

 

"Yeah," Yuuri said, already opening up Victor's contacts. It was too early for the therapist to be in, but Yuuri left a message explaining everything and requesting the change. Once he hung up he asked, "Can I get you some water? Maybe something for your headache or something stronger to help you go to sleep?"

 

Victor reluctantly lifted his head off of Yuuri's thigh with a muted groan. "I don't want to sleep. Just water and aspirin." He sat down and let Makkachin crawl onto his lap, watching as Yuuri got up. He caught Yuuri by the wrist, his husband turning to look at him.

 

Yuuri looked worried and alert, with no trace of the man that Victor had to drag out of bed on a good day. "Yuuri...thank you,  _lyubov_."

 

His husband smiled tenderly before turning and leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "You don't have to thank me for this, okay? I love you."

 

Victor felt a bit calmer when Yuuri returned with a glass of water and an aspirin, practically inhaling the liquid as he realized how wickedly thirsty he was. Yuuri sat down beside him and Victor searched for the words to explain just what he felt, but it was easier said than done. "I don't even know why I'm such a mess right now," he confessed. "I didn't hate him, I was just...Either I was angry at him for never communicating with me or I barely thought of him at all."

 

Yuuri nodded quietly and said slowly, "There were...a lot of unresolved issues."

 

"Tell me about it," Victor muttered. "Now it's over for him at least, and I'm still here feeling like an idiot for being pissed off at my dead father and widowed mother."

 

Wrapping an arm around him again, Victor felt no judgement from Yuuri. He relaxed into his husband's touch even if his entire body still felt sore. 

 

"How did she sound?" Yuuri asked, hesitation in his voice.

 

"Tired," Victor replied. "I can never tell with her." He then sighed heavily as he remembered one other important detail. "Makkachin will have to stay with someone."

 

It was enough to make his throat feel tight again, but Yuuri soothingly told him, "It's okay, we'll ask Yurio to help us out. He's done it before and he loves Makkachin. It'll be fine."

 

Victor nodded silently, really wanting to believe Yuuri's words.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yuuri**

 

Yuuri's heart was going a million miles a minute, and his stomach felt hollow as he moved around the apartment and tried keeping as busy as he could while Victor slept fitfully on the couch.

 

He hated hearing the anxious noises coming from his husband, and wished Victor were able to sleep peacefully but there was little chance of that happening with the emotional upheaval he was going through.

 

Yuuri tried to ignore his own thoughts. Tried.

 

His father-in-law had just died. A father-in-law he'd never meet. 

 

Victor and Yuuri's own father could fill a room with the sound of their combined laughter, and one could barely resist joining in. Yuuri had never been able to even imagine having that kind of a relationship with Victor's father, especially after they'd refused to come to the wedding.

 

Now Yuuri felt a small amount of regret knowing he'd absolutely never get the chance to meet Leonid Nikiforov. He put it aside in favor of Victor's regret, which was evidently great. 

 

He also didn't want to think about meeting Nadezhda Nikiforova. But he would. Either it would go passably well or he'd fall apart in front of the woman who made her resentment well known to a very young Victor. Or maybe he'd yell at her, who knew.

 

_Nope. No, don't think about that. Just keep cleaning._

 

The kitchen and bathroom were clean, at least. He'd gotten started after making a couple of phone calls and packing enough clothes to last them through to the weekend. He had no idea how long Victor would want to remain in Gatchina, but it didn't hurt to be prepared.

 

Yuuri knelt and gave Makkachin tight hugs every chance he got, burying his face in the dog's warm fur to ease the tension building up inside of him. He wanted to support Victor, to be there for him the way he was always there for Yuuri. He couldn't let his apprehension keep him from doing that.

 

He was getting to his feet when he heard Victor's soft groans from the sofa, the sound drawing Makkachin to his owner. Yuuri went over to him, seeing that Victor's hair was disheveled and his eyes seemed unfocused as he sat up. "What time is it?" he asked a little hoarsely, blinking several times.

 

Yuuri quickly sat down beside him, putting his hand over Victor's to try and ground him. "It's a quarter after noon."

 

Victor groaned again, sounding chagrined as he rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes. "I can't believe I actually fell asleep. I still have to pack, I have to call Yurio to see if he'll take Makkachin, and I have to make sure my suit's clean-"

 

"I started packing," Yuuri began. "Our suits are clean. I called Yurio and he said he'd come and get Makkachin tonight. And I called my parents to let them know we were leaving. They said to tell you that you're in their thoughts."

 

Surprise flooded Victor's gaze, followed by gratitude as he gave Yuuri a faint smile. "...Thanks...What about you? Did you sleep some?"

 

Yuuri bit his lip and looked at his knees as he fidgeted with his ring. "Um...I just had my second cup of coffee."

 

"Yuuri," Victor sighed with dismay.

 

"I know, I know! I just...I wanted to take care of things sooner rather than later." It was a weak explanation, but it was better than  _I don't want to think about meeting your scary-sounding mother._

 

Unfortunately Victor had gotten to know him much too well. He could feel his eyes on him as he asked, "What is it?"

 

Yuuri closed his eyes and sighed softly, part of him wanting to keep quiet and the other, louder part of him wanting to tell Victor what was wrong. In the end the loud part won out. "...This really isn't fair at all, but...I'm really nervous about meeting your mom. That doesn't mean I'm not coming with you," he quickly added. "I am! I'm just trying not to think about...what she might think about me. But I-I'm gonna be there for you, okay?"

 

His husband's hand encircled his waist, and Yuuri could feel his jittery nerves calm a little as he heard him say, "Nothing will stop me from worrying about you. If she says anything-"

 

"Don't," Yuuri interrupted gently. "She just lost her husband. I don't want to make her feel worse than she already does."

 

Letting out a soft laugh, Victor reached a hand up to stroke through Yuuri's hair. "You could never do that."

 

Yuuri sincerely hoped so. He got up and started heading to the kitchen, wanting to make sure Victor ate something now that he was awake. "I'm getting you a sandwich."

 

"I'm really not hungry."

 

He didn't imagine he would be. "You have to eat something, Victor," he insisted, already retrieving four slices of bread so he'd make his own and put something else in his stomach other than coffee.

 

They managed to eat, albeit a little reluctantly, but Victor did admit to feeling a little better physically after some actual food. They ate while watching a travel show, Makkachin dozing and snoring lightly between them as Victor kept glancing down at him. A little while later after spending a few minutes stroking Makkachin's head he got up with a heavy sigh. "I'm going to go take a shower and put actual clothes on."

 

Yuuri gave a hum of acknowledgement. Victor would probably feel a little better showered and dressed. "I'll be here," he said, stretching out on the sofa once Makkachin moved to go investigate his food bowl. 

 

Once he was lying down Yuuri sighed in relief as the tension in his back eased considerably. The caffeine buzz was steadily wearing off and he was beginning to realize just how much he'd done in a short amount of time.

 

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Yuuri closed his eyes for a few moments.

 

When he next regained awareness Yuuri wrinkled his nose at the feeling of something playing with his ear. Slowly opening his eyes, Yuuri found himself staring up at Victor, who was dressed and gazing down at him with a loving smile as his fingers playfully stroked the shell of Yuuri's ear. "There's my sleeping beauty," he murmured reverently, his blue eyes warm and adoring.

 

Yuuri hurriedly wiped off the drool that had gathered at the corner of his mouth, unable to stop himself from blushing. "What time is it?"

 

"Almost 5."

 

"Oh no," Yuuri moaned, sitting up and groaning as his back muscles popped. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

 

Victor stroked his back soothingly, pressing a kiss against his cheek and saying, "You needed rest too, Yuurichka. You've been so helpful."

 

Yuuri wasn't sure if the nap had helped much, feeling somewhere between sluggish and alert as he remembered what awaited them tomorrow. Still, both of them got to work getting the last of their packing done in the bedroom, Victor making no comment on the amount of clothes Yuuri had already packed. It was worlds away from packing for a flight across the globe (though Yuuri still caught himself worrying about finding his passport), but there was an obvious solemnity to the process. Yuuri steered clear of any character shirts or anything that looked too shabby to be worn while meeting his widowed mother-in-law.

 

"Have you been to many funerals, Yuuri?"

 

The question caught him a little off-guard, but he answered, "Yeah. Both of my Dad's parents when I was thirteen. My grandmother died in May and my grandfather died three months later. Losing them like that was really hard on my dad."

 

Yuuri remembered those months without his father's smiles, remembered his mother slowly bringing the them back to his father's face with all the love and support she could pour out, remembered Mari making a remarkable effort to avoid getting into trouble so she wouldn't upset their parents. He also remembered the glorious relief he'd felt while helping clear the table after dinner, hearing his father's loud laugh  at a joke a guest had told him. 

 

"I barely remember my grandfather's funeral. I was three years old," Victor said thoughtfully as he zipped up his suitcase. "He died of a stroke too. He was fifty-two. Papa was...only forty-nine."

 

Yuuri had to close his eyes in muted shock at how young Victor's father was when he died. He tried to imagine the man at twenty, finding himself married and expecting a baby, but could only picture Victor at that age.

 

The older man was sitting on the edge of the bed, having put his suitcase on the floor, and seemed to be deep in thought. He was frowning and practically boring a hole into the floor with his hard gaze. Yuuri sat down beside him, very concerned. "What are you thinking about?"

 

Victor rubbed his face with his hand and replied softly, "I'm thinking that I'm almost thirty years old."

 

Yuuri stared and Victor added in an exasperated tone, "I just got married, both my father and grandfather died of strokes before or in their fifties, and I haven't even thought about my will. What the fuck have I been doing?"

 

A horrible sensation filled Yuuri's chest, his heart racing as his throat grew tight. Tearing his gaze away from Victor he quickly said, "You don't have to think about that right now."

 

"Yuuri I should-"

 

"No," Yuuri said firmly, shutting his eyes tight and fighting the shake in his voice as he added, "Not today. Some other day, just..."

 

Victor was silent for a few moments as Yuuri breathed, then he gathered him in his arms and kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to scare you, I just...it's all got me thinking."

 

"I get it," Yuuri said shakily, hating the way the tears were springing up in his eyes. He relaxed into Victor's embrace, attempting to drive away those thoughts even though he knew, realistically, that they merited further discussion. He knew one day either he or Victor would be left alone, but he wanted to fully dedicate himself to their present. 

 

The doorbell rang, drawing Yuuri away from his thoughts as he wondered who it could possibly be. Victor got up to answer it, Yuuri lingering to get his heart back under control and make sure his eyes didn't look tearful before leaving the bedroom.

 

He stood a few feet away when Victor opened the door, revealing Yurio, Georgi, and Mila standing in the hall. Makkachin barked at them excitedly as Victor looked at them with surprise. "What are you three..."

 

Yurio, now as tall as Yuuri and still growing, let himself in and gave Victor a brief hug, muttering as he pulled away, "Yakov's finding a parking space." He was looking anywhere that wasn't Victor's face.

 

Mila, sorrowful as she looked at Victor, gave him a longer hug, saying against his shoulder, "We're so sorry, Victor!" 

 

Victor stilled for a moment before wrapping his arms around Mila and returning her hug. Georgi quietly touched his shoulder, a look of sympathy on his face. When they parted he gave them all a welcoming smile. "Come in. Thanks for coming."

 

Yuuri was surprised by how happy he was to see their rinkmates. Mila made her way to him, holding a white box in her hands. "I brought a chocolate cake for you and Victor. Yakov will probably kill me for buying it, but..."

 

He smiled at her gratefully, thinking that if any situation called for chocolate it was this one. He took it from her and said, "Thank you, Mila. That's so sweet of you." He headed to the kitchen and put the box on the table, trying to determine if they had enough food for six people. "I'll make us something to eat."

 

Yurio appeared and started pushing Yuuri out of the kitchen. "Sit down, pig. You look like hell. I'll deal with the food. Hey hag!" he shouted at Mila. "You can cook, right?"

 

"Do you  _want_ me to burn the apartment down?" Mila replied from the living room, where Makkachin was attempting to clamber on her lap.

 

"Nevermind, then," Yurio snarled.

 

"Why don't you ask  _me_ if I can cook?" Georgi asked with mild outrage.

 

"Because the last time anyone ate something  _you_ made, Mila nearly ended up in the hospital and Victor staked a claim on the toilet for two days."

 

Victor snorted in amusement. "It's true. Sorry, Georgi."

 

"I've gotten better! Really! Ask Galina!"

 

Yuuri found himself beaming as he sat down with them, easing into the relaxed atmosphere, and asked, "How was practice today?"

 

"Way too quiet," Mila replied. "We really missed you guys. So did Yakov."

 

Yuuri caught Victor glancing at the door at the mention of his coach.

 

Georgi, trying to keep Makkachin from getting fur all over his slacks as he pulled something up on his phone browser, asked, "What time are you two leaving tomorrow?"

 

"After ten for sure," Victor said distractedly, Yuuri noticing his shaking leg. "I don't want to get caught in traffic."

 

The other man bit his lip and asked hesitantly, "Did you...have a chance to look at any of the obituaries they published in Gatchina?"

 

At that Victor's eyes widened and he turned to look at Georgi, his eyes filled with dread. "Georgi, please tell me they don't mention me."

 

Georgi scrolled through what Yuuri assumed was an online version of the obituary, his eyes moving across the screen. "This one just says he's survived by his wife and son. They don't mention either of your names."

 

Victor groaned softly and rubbed his temples, shutting his eyes tightly. "I don't want any press near the funeral...Or fans, for that matter."

 

A new anxiety seized Yuuri as he realized that there was a real possibility of fans crashing the funeral for a glimpse of Victor. "You don't think anyone might've made the connection?" he asked.

 

Victor shrugged tiredly. "Papa was already well-known in his own right anyway. I don't really want to think about anyone showing up and..."

 

He trailed off just as the doorbell rang, the sound making him get up quickly. "That's Yakov."

 

He opened the door to reveal his coach, the man's hard features considerably softened as he looked at Victor. "Vitya..."

 

Yuuri watched as Victor gratefully accepted his coach's stiff hug, hearing him murmur, "Thanks for...for coming, Yakov..."

 

Yakov sighed and patted Victor's back, and Yuuri heard him softly tell Victor, "You're going to be alright, Vitya."

 

A couple of hours later they had all eaten the chicken salad Yurio had managed to scrounge up, and Yuuri had politely refused any offers to wash the dishes. He was drying off a plate and heard heavy footsteps approaching. He glanced to his side to see Yakov looking at him. "How are you holding up, Katsuki?" the man asked gruffly.

 

Yuuri gave him a faint smile as he continued working. "I'm alright, coach. Just a little tired, but I can handle it."

 

"From what I understand, it'll be your first time meeting Victor's mother."

 

Stilling briefly, Yuuri looked at the clean glass in his hand and nodded. "Yeah..."

 

Yakov was quiet for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought until he began in soft tones, "The Nikiforovs came to one of Victor's competitions when he was thirteen. They surprised him, and he was so happy at first. Leonid was smiling at him. You know the kind of smile I mean. The ones Victor used to sport before he set eyes on you."

 

Yuuri put the glass down, turning and giving Yakov his full attention.

 

"He gave Victor a pat on the shoulder and Nadezhda told him, 'You must keep doing well, Vitya. I won't hear of you wasting Coach Feltsman's time.'"

 

The skater gave an involuntary flinch at that, feeling defensive on Victor's behalf. "God, I had no idea..."

 

Yakov frowned deeply as he nodded. "As angry as he's made me, that boy has never wasted my time," he said vehemently. "He didn't say anything after they left, but I could tell he needed more from them, though for years he acted like he didn't. Let me tell you, Katsuki, that once you break a bond it's difficult to put it back together. Especially if it's a bond with your own child." He gave Yuuri a hard look and added, "They were fools not to come to the wedding."

 

Yuuri recalled the crushing disappointment he'd felt at learning of their refusal, his nerves at meeting Victor's mother growing sharper. "I just don't want her to hate me," he admitted to the man who had essentially been a father-figure to Victor for years.

 

Yakov snorted bitterly. "Why would she hate you? Because she has Victor's best interests at heart? As far as I'm concerned the only people that have truly loved that boy are Lilia, your family, and everyone in this apartment. Don't worry about Nadezhda Nikiforova."

 

Knowing Yakov was on his side helped a little, but Yuuri couldn't help worrying for himself and for Victor.

 

Later on Yurio had Makkachin leashed and ready to go, waiting while Victor knelt and told Makkachin to behave himself.

 

"Thank you for doing this, Yuri," he said as he got to his feet.

 

Yurio gave a one shoulder shrug. "Potya gets more exercise whenever he's around. You're going to let us know when you get there, right?"

 

Victor chuckled softly and ruffled the teen's hair, ignoring his outraged growl. "You bet."

 

Georgi and Mila gave them each a hug, the black haired skater telling them, "Drive safely, alright?"

 

"We'll miss you two," Mila murmured into Yuuri's shoulder.

 

Yakov waited for his students in the hallway, herding them as they left the apartment. He looked at Yuuri and Victor over his shoulder and gruffly said, "Take care of yourselves."

 

Victor nodded and watched them leave with a faint smile, waiting until they disappeared down the stairs before closing the door. Yuuri lay his head down on the table, his energy trickling out of him.

 

"It's so quiet now," Victor said as he sat across from Yuuri, catching sight of the cake box sitting on the table. He lifted the cover and revealed a small cake that seemed to be made of pure chocolate.

 

Smirking, Yuuri stood up to grab two forks and handed one to Victor. "Here. I know you're dying to."

 

Victor took the fork and bit his lip as he eyed the cake. "I really shouldn't..." Even so he took a generous amount and ate it, eyes fluttering closed as he moaned in ecstasy. " _Christ,_ how does Mila know how to pick out the best cake? Come get some, hurry."

 

This was breaking away from their respective diet plans, but they seemed to be disregarding them for the moment as they shoveled the best chocolate cake Yuuri had ever tasted into their mouths.

 

It was gone way too soon, Yuuri picking at the crumbs along with Victor and sighing, "That was too good."

 

Victor nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

 

A little while later after taking a quick shower and brushing their teeth, Victor joined Yuuri in bed. The younger skater closed his eyes and tried to get over the fact that he'd be away from his own bed for at least a night. He was obviously used to sleeping anywhere, but he'd be in his mother-in-law's territory by this time tomorrow.

 

Victor settled in close to him, asking, "The alarm's set?"

 

"Yeah. 8 a.m.," Yuuri answered, coaxing Victor into his arms.

 

Victor pressed himself close to Yuuri, who basked in the comforting warmth of the man's skin. His husband gave him a soft smile and murmured, "Thank you for today, and tomorrow." He pressed a kiss to Yuuri's lips and added, "I love you."

 

Yuuri chased after his lips with his own, running a hand through Victor's hair. He brushed his nose against Victor's, inhaling the sweet and soft scents of his shampoo and body wash. "I love you too," he murmured against those soft lips.

 

Letting his hands wander up the length of Yuuri's back, Victor sighed against his jaw before kissing it several times, Yuuri shivering slightly at a gentle nip. He closed his eyes and arched his body towards Victor's as his hands dove into the back of his shirt, instinctively curling a leg over Victor's before rolling on top of him.

 

He felt the pleased shiver from the body beneath him, his heart pounding at the sound of Victor's heavy breathing as he melted further into the kiss, answering the man's desperation with slow, patient strokes of his hands over Victor's arching body. One of his hands made its way down to Yuuri's ass, giving it a greedy, lingering squeeze before going to grip his thigh as his other hand rucked Yuuri's shirt up his torso.

 

Yuuri panted against Victor's mouth, need flooding his body as he raked his hands through soft silver hair. Victor moaned in need against his jaw, "Yuuri..." 

 

He didn't want to stop, but knew he needed to check in with Victor and make sure he really wanted this. They were both painfully hard but Yuuri knew there were dozens of emotions going through Victor's head, some of them in conflict. He framed Victor's face with his hands and asked with gentle firmness, "Are you sure?"

 

Victor was silent for a moment, breathing hard as he gazed up at Yuuri through clear eyes. He reached up to stroke Yuuri's cheek and swallowed before whispering, " _Please..._ "

 

Yuuri gazed at him for a moment before bending down to kiss him again, stroking down his chest with an eager hand that dove beneath the waistband of Victor's boxers to encircle his hard length. His husband moaned into his mouth, shuddering as his hips thrust into Yuuri's hand as it moved slow, caressing and coaxing. Yuuri kissed his way down Victor's neck, starting to slither down the length of the man's body before Victor caught him by the back of his shirt and begged, "No, don't...I want to look at you."

 

He made his way back up, kissing a tender line from Victor's chin to his ear in mild apology. He glanced up to see the desperation in Victor's eyes before straightening to take off his shirt, the man's hands flying to his torso and caressing hungrily. They hurriedly pulled the rest of their clothes off, Yuuri taking Victor's hands in his and kissing the backs of his fingers, the warm metal of his ring, the inside of his wrists as he listened to Victor's needy breaths. He kissed his mouth and lowered him back to the bed, Victor's hands easily finding and grabbing his ass as he started moving slowly against him.

 

Yuuri closed his eyes and pressed darting kisses to Victor's face as their lengths moved against each other, the pleasure from the resulting friction sweet and uncomplicated. Victor's breathy moans were warm and intoxicating in his ear, the feeling of a hand moving up to grip his shoulder tight wonderful and stirring him further as he kept a tortuously slow pace with his hips, shivering at every impatient squeeze of Victor's hand on his ass.

 

Victor finally growled with impatience and grabbed Yuuri by the shoulders to roll them over, immediately gripping Yuuri's wrists tight as soon as his back his the mattress, pressing them down into the mattress and catching his lips in a bruising kiss as he thrust between Yuuri's open legs, chasing the friction and quickly driving them closer to climax.

 

Yuuri let Victor wrench control from him and pressed his legs tightly to the man's sides, framing his hips as he moved at a relentless pace and swiftly built up the heat and tension between them. Pleasure burned in Yuuri's abdomen as he felt his balls tighten and his muscles tense tellingly, his hands clenching uselessly as he gasped sharply and continuously with every hard thrust that had Victor's cock sliding deliciously over his. He threw his head back and moaned as he raced towards orgasm, unable to move or put his hands on Victor as his mouth latched on to Yuuri's neck.

 

A sharp cry escaped Yuuri's mouth as his body arched and he released between their heaving bodies, his eyes fluttering closed as he moaned long and soft. His wrists were still trapped in Victor's tight grip as the rest of his body fell slack and boneless, his ears ringing and his pulse pounding as Victor slowed and finally came to a stop, his orgasm unnoticed by Yuuri. 

 

Victor rested his forehead against Yuuri's shoulder, his breaths hard and hot against his skin. Yuuri felt his husband's hands slowly relaxing their grip on him, his fingers gently caressing his wrists before bringing his hand to frame Yuuri's face as he lifted his gaze. His throat dry, Yuuri swallowed as he gazed up at Victor's face, adoring as he gazed right back at Yuuri, though he wasn't smiling.

 

Lifting a tired hand up to stroke the side of Victor's face, Yuuri gently tugged him back into his arms, the man's body heavy with exhaustion as he settled against Yuuri's body. 

 

Yuuri kissed Victor's temple, his fingers stroking through his hair while he drew comforting circles across his back with his other hand. Victor's breaths were shaky against his neck as he held on to Yuuri like a lifeline. Yuuri squeezed him back, sleepily whispering into the dark of the room, "You're okay. You're okay, I love you..."

 

* * *

 

His hands tight on the wheel, Yuuri kept his eyes right on the road, guiltily realizing that he hadn't so much as glanced as Victor the whole time he'd been driving. 

 

He couldn't help being eighty kinds of nervous! He was on his way to a funeral, he was going to meet his mother-in-law for the first time, and it was his first time driving outside of Saint Petersburg.

 

_"Don't worry, Victor. You relax and I'll get us there. It won't be a problem!"_

 

_"If you're sure, Yuuri..."_

 

_"I'm sure."_

 

What an  _idiot._

 

To tell the truth it wasn't  _entirely_ bad. They had his phone hooked up to the radio, blasting his driving playlist. Victor dutifully directed Yuuri the whole time, following along on a map on his phone.

 

Once in the town limits Yuuri's stomach dropped and he suddenly wished they were back in Saint Petersburg.  _Shut up, Yuuri. Focus on driving._  

 

They were on time, at least. Other than waking up stuck to each other and covered in dry spend, they got everything ready and packed into Victor's car, eating a quick breakfast that neither of them had much appetite for before leaving the apartment.

 

"Where do I turn?" Yuuri asked, maintaining a reasonably low speed on the unfamiliar road.

 

Victor replied while pointing ahead, "Not here. On the next street."

 

While his nerves gave him goosebumps and made him extremely jittery, Yuuri preferred to keep the A/C on, preferring to be shivery than sweaty in his black suit. With every turn he made he was getting closer to meeting his mother-in-law, and he had no idea what he would say to her.

 

He had to keep himself from hitting the brake in distress when that brought to mind a  _very_ important question. "...How's your mother's English, Victor?"

 

"It's conversational," he explained, rubbing his forehead. "I can translate if you want me to."

 

"No, I'll speak in Russian," Yuuri insisted, sounding more confident than he felt. Exposure and practice helped him learn quickly, though he still wasn't as fluent as he was in English and his accent was very noticeable. "I should start now," he said in Russian, biting his lip.

 

He heard Victor's fond chuckle. "You're so cute."

 

The words eased some of Yuuri's tension as they got closer to the church.

 

A little while later he turned into the street the church was on and he took a shaky breath. Slowly pulling up Yuuri saw a crowd gathered at the entrance, dozens of people dressed in black. No one stood out as Victor's mother.

 

Scanning the crowd, Yuuri commented, "I don't see any press...or anyone that looks like they're a fan."

 

"Thank God," Victor muttered as Yuuri managed to find a place to park. As soon as he turned the engine off, Yuuri felt himself freeze where he sat, suddenly unable to breathe as he kept staring at the crowd, trying to find anyone who could be Victor's mother. "I texted Yakov so he knows we made it. Let's go," he heard his husband say quietly as he opened the door. Yuuri didn't say a word, the summer heat making its way into the car and making it harder to breathe.

 

There was a silent pause before Yuuri heard the door close again and saw Victor's hand curl gently over his. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

 

"Fine," he heard himself exclaim a little manically. He cleared his throat and added, "W-why do you ask?"

 

Victor's hand patted his and he said, "You're clutching the steering wheel pretty hard."

 

Yuuri blinked and saw that he was indeed holding on way too tightly to the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He let go, mortified as he breathed shakily. "Oh, God..."

 

He turned to finally look at Victor, who gave him an understanding smile as he leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Relax,  _lapochka._  I'm right here."

 

Yuuri's heart filled with guilt as he closed his eyes to lean into Victor, greatly wishing that for this one day he could be strong enough to help Victor shoulder his loss. Couldn't he even do that? "Sorry, it's just...Your mother's out there somewhere. And..."

 

_I thought I was ready._

 

But he knew he had to be strong, even if the woman openly hated him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly blowing it out and straightening back in his seat, his hand finding the door latch. He turned to look at Victor, who was gazing at him with concern. _Don't do that. It's my turn to worry about you._  "I'm okay. Let's go."

 

Victor nodded and donned his sunglasses, apparently to keep him from being immediately recognizable by anyone who kept up with skating. He was pale, but his grip on Yuuri's hand was tight and somewhat clammy. Yuuri squeezed back as they wove through the crowd, catching snatches of conversation that expressed shock over the suddenness of Leonid Nikiforov's death.

 

Near the entrance there stood who Yuuri assumed was a priest talking quietly to a slim woman with thick and wavy platinum blonde hair that reached the middle of her back. The priest nodded and entered the church, leaving the woman standing alone, and Victor gave Yuuri's hand a hard squeeze. 

 

She turned and Yuuri froze in his tracks.

 

She was stunning. She probably drank from the same water source as Minako-sensei because she didn't look a day over forty. Her eyes, narrowed in a slight frown, were the same blue as Victor's.

 

It was her. Nadezhda Nikiforova.

 

Yuuri swallowed and prayed his anxiety didn't show as he and Victor walked towards her, his husband's grip on his hand almost defiant.  _Okay, Yuuri. Calm down. You're a Katsuki of Hasetsu. You're Japan's Ace. You're married to Victor Nikiforov. You're a record-breaking gold medalist._

_...You're a goddamn coward._

 

She started making her way towards them in no-nonsense strides, and Yuuri realized that the only thing keeping him from bolting away and getting back in the car to drive back home was Victor, who let out a shaky breath as he watched his mother approach.

 

He took his sunglasses off, hesitating before softly saying, "Mama."

 

"Vitya," she said, just as softly. Victor looked at her for a moment and stepped forward to give her a one-armed hug, refusing to let Yuuri go. Yuuri observed quietly as she closed her eyes and leaned into Victor's shoulder, pulling away and looking up at him, sadness clouding her sharp gaze as she seemed to drink in the sight of her son.

 

How long had it been since they'd seen each other?

 

Victor cleared his throat and glanced at Yuuri, who felt slightly dazed. "Mama, this is my husband. Yuuri. Yuuri, this is my mother, Nadezhda."

 

Right. That was his cue to speak. Yuuri looked right at the woman, who beheld him thoughtfully. He both wanted and didn't want to know what she thought of him, standing there and holding Victor's hand. He cleared his throat and forced his voice to be steady as he gave a bow at the waist out of habit and managed to say, "I'm very glad to meet you, ma'am. I'm so sorry for your loss."

 

Hands clasped at her lap, Nadezhda gazed at him silently, reminding him of a cat, and nodded twice as she replied, "Thank you for coming, Mr. Katsuki."

 

"Katsuki-Nikiforov," Victor quickly put in, his mouth a thin line.

 

Nadezhda didn't respond to that, though Yuuri felt his throat tighten at Victor's knee-jerk reaction. She turned to Victor and merely said, "We're about to begin." Then she turned on her heel and began to make her way into the church, pausing at the threshold before moving on.

 

Yuuri let out a shaky breath and turned to Victor, his eyes wide. "...What was that just now?"

 

Victor let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "That was my mother. Come on. Let's get this over with."

 

His grip on Yuuri's hand relaxed once they were inside. Yuuri found Victor's mother sitting at the very front, close to the open casket where Victor's father lay. He heard Victor inhale sharply, turning to see him staring ahead with wide eyes. Yuuri gave his hand an encouraging squeeze and Victor swallowed before moving again.

 

They approached the casket, Yuuri chancing a glance at Nadezhda. She was staring right at it, eyes red and puffy and her lips parted slightly as tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. Yuuri quickly looked away his eyes falling on the man in the casket.

 

He felt like his heart nearly came to a stop at the sight of an older version of Victor lying still and silent in the casket. His features were much sharper than his son's, but there was no denying the resemblance. "...You look like him," Yuuri quietly said in English.

 

Victor was silent for a moment before replying just as quietly, "His hair's completely white now. God, his hairline..."

 

Leonid Nikiforov had his hair combed neatly to the side, though it did appear rather receded. Yuuri looked at Victor and saw him staring down at his father, his breathing shaky. Without another word Victor drew them away and sat in the pew next to his mother, still managing to put a little distance between them.

 

"That's really him in that box," Victor murmured, and Yuuri put his arm around his shoulder. He knew seeing this would be hard on Victor, no matter how he felt about his parents. He looked at him briefly, catching the tears glistening on his eyelashes, and gave him a comforting squeeze.

 

The mass went by in a blur, Yuuri paying close attention to Victor's actions and prompts throughout, determined to avoid committing a misstep. All the while he kept glancing at Nadezhda, surprised by her tearful display. It wasn't what Yuuri had expected, and it appeared that she was completely devastated by the loss.

 

He saw that Victor kept looking at her too, his gaze lingering far longer than Yuuri's. When he turned away he looked so sad and overwhelmed, and all Yuuri could do was silently hold him.

 

When the mass ended Nadezhda got to her feet and hurried to the casket, gazing down at her husband's face for a long moment before walking away from it, sobbing quietly into her hand. Victor gazed at her, looking caught off-guard at the gesture, and gave his father one last look before they closed the casket lid. That was when his tears finally flowed out, and then they found themselves outside standing with his mother, surrounded by the other mourners, who all seemed to be truly saddened by Leonid's passing.

 

Yuuri listened quietly and Victor barely replied to the mourners' words.

 

"Unbelievable...Such a good man."

 

"He is at peace now, at least."

 

"I knew he had a son, I just never realized it was  _you_..."

 

"Miss Nadya taught me how to play the piano. Dr. Nikiforov was always nice to me."

 

"Leonid was too young. Too, too young."

 

"He saved my life."

 

"He saved my mother. I am forever grateful..."

 

There were two that asked for autographs after giving their "condolences," and Yuuri felt sick as Victor robotically signed them, looking like he didn't know what he was doing.

 

The cemetery was nearby, and a group of men were getting ready to carry the casket there. Victor blanched when he realized what the men were going to do, and at seeing the unattended corner of the casket he shook his head and hurried away, looking panicked.

 

 _Oh, no..._ Yuuri glanced around him and went after Victor, who had retreated to the side of the building where no one could see them. His husband looked horrified, his eyes wide and his hair becoming untidy as he ran his hands through it in desperation. " _Fuck...!"_ he hissed before pressing his forehead against the wall and shutting his eyes as Yuuri watched.

 

Intensely worried, Yuuri slowly got closer to Victor and carefully put a hand on his shaking shoulder, gently asking, "Victor? What's wrong?"

 

"I can't do it," he muttered, shaking his head. "I can't carry my father to..." Suddenly his breathing grew ragged and he sank to his knees, forehead still pressed against the wall.

 

Yuuri, terror making his heart race, knelt beside his husband and put his hand over the man's tight fist, pressed against the wall next to Victor's head. "I'm here, Victor," he said softly, fighting to keep his voice steady. "What do you need?"

 

Someone hissed, "Victor, where are...?"

 

Yuuri looked over his shoulder and saw Nadezhda standing nearby, her eyes wide with shock as she looked at them. "What are you two doing?!" As Yuuri tried to determine how to explain this, she looked at her son and said sharply, "Victor, don't do this now! We have to go to the cemetery! Everyone's waiting!"

 

Victor flinched, his breaths still frighteningly uneven, and Yuuri felt a surge of defensiveness. He didn't look at Nadezhda as he explained in low tones, "He'll be fine, just...just give him a moment, please."

 

_Leave him alone let him calm down please please please_

 

But she only came closer, her voice trembling as she warned, "Victor, don't do this to me. Not today."

 

Fury filled Yuuri's chest as he saw how white Victor's knuckles were, and he threw a sharp glare at his mother-in-law before getting to his feet to stand protectively in front of Victor. Did she really think he was doing this to _her?_ On _purpose_ _?_  "Look, I'm sorry to be rude, but I need you to please back off. You're not helping him at all."

 

Nadezhda looked at him as if she were surprised that he was even there, and Yuuri felt both a stab of dismay and anger at that. Had she really expected him to leave Victor alone in this? She frowned at him and shot back, "And _you_ think you're helping him?!"

 

"It's more than you've ever done!" he said firmly, knowing right away that he was supposed to regret speaking so harshly to his mother-in-law. But it didn't matter at the moment, his only concern the man kneeling on the ground, struggling to breathe. Turning his back on a shocked-looking Nadezhda, Yuuri knelt next to Victor again and said in steadier tones, "Forgive me, but...please just leave us alone for a little bit."

 

It was a few moments before he heard her leave, and he kept murmuring soothing words to his husband as he stroked slow circles across his back with his palm. "I'm here, it's okay. I'm not going to leave you alone. I'm going to stay with you, okay?" He began to hear Victor's breaths slowly return to normal, and he sighed in relief. "You're fine. You're doing so well..."

 

Victor started to relax under the soft words and ministrations, his hands uncurling and his body losing its tension. Within moments he was breathing deeply and shaking his head, opening his eyes and looking up at Yuuri. His eyes filled with shame and he looked away. "I'm sorry, Yuuri," he said hoarsely.

 

Yuuri sighed heavily and pressed a kiss to Victor's disheveled hair. "Don't apologize. Not to me. Not to anybody." He stayed quiet for a moment to get his own emotions under control and suddenly remembered how incredibly rude he'd been to Nadezhda. Flushing with shame he quietly said, "I'm sorry for being so rude to your mother."

 

"Don't be," Victor replied, his smile shaky as he carefully got to his feet, bringing Yuuri up with him. He tidied them up quickly and efficiently, still pale but his breathing normal. "You were right, after all."

 

He sighed and started to make his way back to the front of the church, Yuuri following him as he said. "All of my grandparents are buried in that cemetery. Now I have to take my own father there."

 

It was the one burden Yuuri really couldn't shoulder for him.

 

Victor performed his part well, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses as the procession made its way towards the cemetery.

 

Yuuri found himself walking next to Nadezhda, who was grim-faced and silent. She barely noticed the soft words of consolation and gentle touches sent her way, looking as if they irritated her rather than comforted her.

 

Gathered around the plot, Yuuri observed that Victor and his mother were virtually silent compared to everyone else. Patients and acquaintances alike sobbed as the prayers were said and the casket was finally lowered into the earth, but Victor and Nadezhda both cried silently.

 

The burial ended and the mourners began to disperse, giving the surviving Nikiforovs parting words of consolation. Yuuri circled Victor's waist with his arm, feeling him sigh and lean into him as they watched the grave being filled. 

 

They both turned to look at Nadezhda when she breathed, "Oh, Leo..." She wiped at her eyes and sniffled lightly, blinking as she looked at the grave for another moment before turning and walking away, looking as if every step pained her.

 

Victor gave his father's grave a final glance before following his mother, Yuuri staying close to him.

 

They fell into step with her, walking in silence among the rows of graves before she took a breath and turned to suddenly ask, "Are you two hungry? Should we eat out?"

 

Caught off-guard, Yuuri looked to Victor for a response. His husband shook his head and said in an exhausted voice, "If I have to sign another autograph, I'm going to scream."

 

Yuuri hummed in agreement, not really wanting to be around a lot of people and knowing Victor needed calm and quiet.

 

Nadezhda saw the sense in that, thankfully, and quietly said, "Then let's head to the house and I'll put something together."

 

Observing her, Yuuri realized that she was barely holding herself together, and he thought of a way he could make up for his earlier rudeness. "I can cook, if you don't mind," he offered, sounding braver than he felt.

 

She looked at him in surprise again and nodded in acceptance. "Very well." She then reached into her purse and pulled out a carton of cigarettes, placing one in her mouth before holding it out to them in offering. "Smoke?"

 

Victor gave her a dry look. "Mama..." 

 

Nadezhda smiled wryly before putting the carton away. "Right. Athletes. Sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **yuuri** : ffs is _anyone_ in this family an ugly crier?????
> 
> my tumblr: **aeriamamaduck**


	3. Chapter 3

**Victor**

 

Victor remembered the garden. 

 

He remembered running in the yard, stopping to observe his father's quiet focus as he carefully tended flowerbeds that had been there for as long as Victor could remember. He remembered running past, skirting by the flowerbed, and turning to see his father laughing and smiling at him as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. 

 

What had happened that his father could no longer stop to look at him in that way again?

 

He smiled at the memory of his father sighing one afternoon when they stepped out of the house, dismay in his voice when he said,  _"It smells like Mama's been smoking again. Go and play, Vitya."_

 

The scent was still very present, more so with his mother beside him. Victor peered down and found a crushed cigarette on the pathway, the ashes still fresh.

 

He glanced at Yuuri, concerned for a moment that the smell bothered him. But his husband showed no sign and merely turned to smile at him encouragingly.

 

 _I don't deserve you,_ Victor thought for the millionth time, his grip on Yuuri's hand desperate, as if he would disappear at any moment.

 

His mother walked ahead of them and unlocked the back door, pushing it open and stepping aside to flick her lighter open and light the cigarette hanging from between her lips. "Feel free to look around. I'm going to stay out here and smoke for a bit."

 

"Are you sure?" Victor found himself asking, aware that perhaps he shouldn't leave his mother alone. Her tears had surprised him, but they weren't quite enough to take away the sting of her anger with him for nearly failing in his final duty to his father. It had taken him everything to get up and take that long walk so he could shoulder his father's coffin, and in his heart he held on to the fact that Yuuri was just a few steps away from him. Too far away to touch, but still there.

 

His mother waved the question away, taking a long drag of her cigarette and looking at the fecund garden. 

 

Victor wondered what she was thinking before leading the way into the house, feeling almost as frightened as he had when he left it as a seven year old.

 

He stood in the kitchen, hearing Yuuri shut the door softly behind them, and thought that this didn't feel like home. Not the way St. Petersburg or Hasetsu did. Perhaps it was an exaggeration, but he almost felt as though he were intruding into his parents' home. He turned to see Yuuri looking at him like he was worried he'd fall apart again.

 

He smiled at Yuuri, a real one to show how relieved he was that he was with him. He took his hand and tugged him along. "Come on, I'll show you around."

 

He said it as if he was as intimately familiar with the house the way Yuuri was with Yu-Topia. Pulling their suitcases along, they stepped through the kitchen and into the hallway.

 

For some reason Victor hadn't expected the photographs.

 

Maybe he should have. He did remember playfully posing for photographs as a child, beaming at the camera and even at the man behind the camera. The walls were full of photos, of his parents, their families, and even of him from the time he was a newborn. Victor paused to look at them, seeing faces of people he couldn't remember along with those of his parents, young and smiling in every pose.

 

"Oh my god, you were a chubby baby," Yuuri exclaimed with an enchanted smile when he spotted one of a one-year-old Victor wearing some ridiculous sailor getup, round-faced and pudgy.

 

Victor had to laugh, never imagining that such a silly, normal image of him existed. There were hundreds of photos of Yuuri in a similar state back in Hasetsu, Victor wanting to see them all and Hiroko glad to show them off while Yuuri blushed and tried to run off somewhere. "Yes, I was! I wasn't nearly as cute as you were, though."

 

"Are you kidding?" Yuuri asked with a smile still gazing at the photo adoringly. "You'd kick my ass in any baby contest."

 

"Impossible. Besides, I'm four years older and therefore wouldn't qualify by the time you started competing." He stared at the photos for few moments, looking at the little boy who would experience two decades' worth of loneliness and overwork, completely burnt out by the time he was twenty-seven.

 

Walking further down he peered into the living room and inhaled sharply. Other than a few more framed photographs of his parents together and one of his grandmother before their deaths, the room hadn't really changed in its layout or the simple, comfortable furniture he used to climb on as a child. He left his suitcase in the hallway and stepped into the living room, drawn to the photographs sitting on the table next to the piano he was always told to avoid touching so his mother wouldn't get angry.

 

He remembered peeking out from behind the armrest of the chair he'd sit in as his mother played, her passion clear even if she was sitting down. He was six when he thought to stand behind her when she played, watching the fluid movement of her shoulders and arms all the way down to her fingers. 

 

Victor picked up a silver frame that held a black and white photo of his mother, young and uninhibited as she smiled on stage, a bouquet of roses cradled in her arms. 

 

Yuuri stood next to him, looking at the image, and asked, "How old was your mother in this one?"

 

"She was eighteen," he replied. "I think Papa took it. It was at a concert in Moscow. Papa said she was...brilliant." He smiled at that beautiful girl, wishing that smile could be for him, and set it back down on the table. "And then I came along."

 

A gentle squeeze of his arm kept Victor from crawling back to that familiar need to make himself perfect, likable, good enough to justify his existence. His gaze moved on to the next frame, finding his parents' wedding photo.

 

Yuuri picked it up carefully, glancing at Victor and back at the frame. "You really do look like your dad. You have his smile."

 

It was true. His father was beaming at the camera, reminding Victor of himself in all the photos taken during his and Yuuri's wedding. His mother's smile was faint, nothing like the joyful smiles Yuuri had sported in their photos. "I used to stare at this picture for hours. They both looked so beautiful in it...Looking at it now, they were probably terrified."

 

How couldn't they be? They were practically children and were expecting a baby. 

 

Yuuri put the frame back without a word, hand brushing against a plastic ashtray that had three crushed cigarettes in it. Victor picked it up with a sigh and dumped out the contents in the wastebasket sitting beneath the table. "She started smoking when I was four. I know Papa didn't like it, so she did it behind his back, but I think he knew." 

 

He thought of his father's frequent soft, defeated sighs whenever she lit another cigarette.  _"Nadya..."_  Sometimes it seemed that she wasn't even aware that she was lighting one right after the other.

 

They quietly made their way up the stairs, Victor's stomach growing tight as he realized they had walked past the room where his father died. He didn't think he wanted to go in there right now, not when everything was still so fresh. He had to think for a moment before remembering which room used to be his, and opened the door to find a bedroom much like any other, the bed in the middle of the room, the colors neutral, and the decoration simple. There was nothing to indicate that this had once been a child's bedroom.

 

"So this was your room," Yuuri said as he stepped into the room, soft brown eyes looking around as if he was searching for signs of the child Victor used to be. 

 

Victor, reminding himself that this was the guest bedroom and not his anymore, looked at a spot on the wall where his bed used to be. The tiny hole was still there, the only evidence of what used to hang there. He walked over to touch it, remembering what he used to see when he opened his eyes in the morning. "I used to have an image of Saint George hanging there. My grandmother, Irina, gave it to me when I was two and I forgot about it when I left...I wonder where they put it..."

 

He'd been both terrified and excited when he left Gatchina that he hadn't thought of taking the image with him, and maybe only thought about it once or twice in the next two decades. Drained physically and emotionally, Victor walked away from the wall to sit on the edge of the bed and breathe deeply, closing his eyes and drawing tired hands through his hair. He'd gotten through the burial with a considerable hitch, and there was still a meeting with a lawyer to look forward to in the morning, and dinner with his mother. Keeping himself under control had always taken a toll on him, but now it felt like he was being asked to skate ceaselessly, his entire body screaming at him to give up.

 

Yuuri sat down next to him and wrapped both arms around him. Victor leaned against him gratefully, trying to ease the disquiet in his heart and sink into Yuuri's warmth. Yuuri, who was undoubtedly exhausted, had still offered to cook for him and his mother and was still literally holding Victor together.

 

"Do you want to lie down for a bit while I go look through the fridge?" Yuuri asked softly, not letting him go.

 

Victor sighed and shook his head, pressing himself closer. "I'll come with you. I don't want to be alone in here right now."

 

Would he have felt better if they'd kept his room the way it was? Maybe. Maybe not. All he knew for sure was that this hadn't been his home for twenty years, and all he wanted to do was grab Yuuri and drive back to St. Petersburg, away from this awful feeling. 

 

Reluctantly leaving the safety of Yuuri's arms Victor got to his feet and took his black jacket and tie off, leaving them on the bed and feeling less constricted. Once Yuuri did the same Victor looked at him and softly said, "Thank you for doing this with me, Yuuri."

 

Yuuri smiled at him sheepishly as he twisted his tie in his hands. "Y-you really don't have to thank--"

 

Victor interrupted him by taking his face in his hands and pressing a brief kiss to his forehead, gazing into his eyes for a long moment to commit that gentle look in Yuuri's brown eyes to memory forever. "Yes, I do."

 

He laughed softly, heart lightening a little bit when that familiar blush spread across Yuuri's face. 

 

When he led the way into the kitchen Victor tensed when he saw his mother already sitting at the table, eyes gazing at a spot on the wooden surface. She looked up just as Victor pulled out a chair to sit across from her, not really knowing what he could say. Usually when he entered a room in Yu-Topia and found Hiroko in it he'd give her a quick hug and a kiss while she giggled and patted his cheek.

 

Yuuri cleared his throat and got to work without a word, though Victor could sense just how nervous he was being in the same room as Nadezhda. She watched him open the refrigerator and then asked Victor, "Did you find your room alright?"

 

 _Don't you mean the guest room?_  "I did," Victor replied, holding on to the sounds of Yuuri moving around. Without thinking he asked her, "Mama, do you know where my Saint George is?"

 

Nadezhda's eyes widened in surprise, and for the first time she held Victor's gaze. "Your father kept it in his office after he found it in your room. I'm surprised you even remember it."

 

Victor stared back at her, caught off-guard by the answer. His father had it this whole time?

 

"Er..." Victor glanced to his right and saw Yuuri looking at them both uncertainly, asking in his halting Russian, "Is...beef stroganoff alright?"

 

Victor nodded, trying to calm him with a smile. "That's fine,  _miliy._ Thank you. Do you need any help?"

 

"I can handle it," Yuuri insisted, returning the smile with a nervous one of his own and getting everything he needed ready.

 

Yuuri would be preoccupied and Victor knew he wouldn't be able to stand the silence. Looking at his mother he saw her glancing between him and Yuuri, an inscrutable expression on her face, and asked the first question that came to mind. "How was he feeling in the past few days?"

 

She didn't ask who he was talking about. Letting out a long sigh she said, "Leo never let me know if he was feeling poorly. He was a doctor, but he forgot to take care of himself most of the time. And like I said, it was completely unexpected." She rubbed at her temples, frowning and suddenly looking older. "We have to meet with the lawyers tomorrow, you know."

 

"That's fine," Victor said simply, starting to develop his own headache and trying to keep from repeating his mother's gesture.

 

"I know you have practice to go to," she stated, even looking a little concerned.

 

"It's fine, Mama. Yuuri's good at catching up, and I'm used to Yakov running me ragged anyway." God, he wished Yakov were here. He missed that grouchy old face.

 

"How is Coach Feltsman?" his mother asked.

 

"Doing well, thankfully."

 

"Good."

 

Victor thought of the piano in the living room, and of a girl who'd given her condolences after the mass, mentioning that his mother taught her how to play. Regardless of everything he was aware that his parents hadn't been apart for thirty years, and suddenly his mother was all by herself. Victor once thought he could handle such loneliness, but his mother..."So, you're teaching piano?"

 

Her smile, even more surprising, had a hint of bitterness. "I've been teaching for nearly twenty years. It's too late for me, but I find fulfillment teaching the kids that come to me. A handful of them have already played in major concert halls."

 

She did sound proud of them, though a little envious. Victor sometimes found himself feeling the same about his rinkmates. Yuuri was an artist with his body, Yuri was pushing himself through every change his body went through, and Mila was like an airy spirit on the ice. Meanwhile Victor sometimes felt like a relic, struggling to figure out how he could keep everyone on their toes when they watched him. Smiling at her faintly for the first time, Victor said, "It's not too late for you, Mama."

 

She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Well, what am I going to do? Make my grand comeback? And soon the government will name me People's Artist?" Still smiling she got to her feet and retrieved a wine bottle from the counter, uncorking it quickly and taking out a trio of wine glasses. "Comebacks are  _your_ strong suit, Vitya. Do you like red wine, Yuuri?"

 

Yuuri jumped at the question, caught off-guard. He glanced at Victor, wide-eyed, and managed to reply, "Uh, yes! Thank you."

 

She set a glass near him and poured out a generous amount, commenting while Victor watched in cautious astonishment, "You speak Russian quite well."

 

She was praising him. His mother was actually praising Yuuri. Victor looked at his flustered expression, feeling that familiar need to rush to Yuuri's defense, but Yuuri seemed to focus on a spot on Nadezhda's shoulder and said, "I...I started learning on and off about ten years ago, and then Victor started teaching me more as he was coaching me."

 

It was true, Victor remembered feeling ecstatic when Yuuri shyly said a few phrases in his sparse Russian back when they were working on his program, still testing the grounds of their relationship while Victor tried to process that Yuuri didn't want him to change for his sake. Some of his tension dissipating, he took a sip of his wine and said, "I'll teach him French next. Soon enough he'll be better at it than I am. He's already completely fluent in English."

 

"You're fluent too," said over his shoulder with a small smile.

 

"Not as much as you are."

 

"Well, I lived in America for five years."

 

"Whatever for?" Nadezhda asked, not having moved from where she was observing Yuuri while holding her glass of wine.

 

"I went to college in Detroit, and my old coach had his home rink there," Yuuri explained, apparently deciding he'd rather look at the dish he was working on than Victor's mother. "I didn't get to go home to Hasetsu in all that time, but as soon as I did...well...Victor arrived a little after I did." 

 

"In an interview you said you met in Sochi," Nadezhda commented, and suddenly she reminded Victor of a bloodhound. 

 

Blushing, Yuuri stammered, "Y-yes. We did. Briefly, after all the...competition."

 

Victor had to bite his lip at that. That banquet remained a rather embarrassing memory (or lack thereof) for Yuuri, and he obviously didn't want to discuss it with Victor's mother, of all people. Wanting to get Sochi out of the way, Victor put in, "He suggested I visit his family's hot springs, and I took him up on the offer a few months later."

 

Giving Victor a sharp look, his mother nodded slowly and took another sip of her wine. "Mmm...That's quite a long visit to a hot springs, Vitya."

 

He made no comment, deciding that he'd rather drink his wine. Obviously his parents hadn't liked that he'd suddenly decided to leave competition to coach, but that particular scolding through text was easier for him to ignore.

 

Once Yuuri served the food, Victor realized how decidedly unhungry he was, but he wasn't about to turn his nose up at Yuuri's hard work. He ate sparsely, gaze drawn to his mother as she ate as slowly, and Yuuri asked, "Has Yurio texted you?"

 

"I haven't checked, I turned my phone off when we got to the church..." He retrieved his phone from his pocket, turning it on and waiting for the notifications to flood in. He didn't bother checking anything relating to social media, going directly to his messages and tapping Yurio's name. 

 

**YURIO:**

**hey old man. how are you? how's yuuri?**

**also your shitty dog is a thief and i'm dyeing his fur blue**

 

Attached was an image of Makkachin looking merrily at the camera as he lay on the cat bed, squishing it completely.

 

It made Victor snort and he showed it to Yuuri. "It looks like Makkachin stole Potya's bed again."

 

Yuuri laughed at the message, Nadezhda looking at them both in confusion. "Potya?"

 

"Yuri Plisetsky's cat," Victor said. "He's dogsitting for us." Quickly he tapped out a message.

 

**We're both fine. Thanks, Yurio.**

**Please don't dye my dog's fur blue. He just wants to be friends with Potya. <3 <3 <3**

 

Putting his phone aside he kept eating, though he could feel Yuuri's attentive gaze on him. "I hope it's alright," he said quietly, briefly glancing at Victor's mother. 

 

Victor smiled and nodded reassuringly. Though he had no appetite, the food was as delicious as anything Yuuri made. He turned to his mother and said, "Yuuri's an amazing cook."

 

"I'm not as good as Victor, really," Yuuri said, waving away Victor's praise in that familiar way.

 

"He's just being modest."

 

Victor observed with relief that his mother's plate wasn't going untouched, and she actually said to Yuuri, "It's very good. You sell yourself short, Yuuri."

 

Yuuri's blush intensified and Victor thanked his lucky stars even though his irritation with his mother was still very much present. Where was this solicitous attitude when he invited her and his father to the wedding? Had she actually forgotten that she called Yuuri a distraction?

 

No. She'd never referred to Yuuri by name in that text. He was always "that young man." 

 

He almost said something until he remembered why he was here in the first place. Looking at his mother he once again saw the devastation his father's death left. This woman had cried openly, something Victor had never thought he would see her do. The world had turned on its head for her, and Victor realized the pity he felt for her was outweighing his anger for the moment.

 

At least she was starting to be nice to Yuuri, who honestly didn't deserve any of her disdain. Maybe that was all he would get for the moment.

 

Conversation lessened to a trickle and Victor realized they'd been sitting at the table for about two hours, but they all managed to eat at least. Once she had deposited her dishes in the sink, Nadezhda said, "I think I'm going to get ready for bed. Thank you for the meal, Yuuri." She gave him a look that didn't appear to hold any hostility. 

 

Yuuri must have noticed it too, because he looked astonished when he was staring back at Nadezhda. "Y-you're welcome, Mrs. Nikiforova." He glanced at Victor, seeking an explanation for this development, but Victor didn't really have a solid answer to give him.

 

His mother walked out of the room, softly saying, "Goodnight, you two."

 

It was almost as if they were in Yu-Topia, and Hiroko was waving them off to bed. Staring at his mother's retreating back, Victor said, "Goodnight, Mama."

 

"Goodnight," Yuuri added, a little quieter.

 

Victor listened for the sound of her going up the stairs, remaining silent until he heard a door close, and sighed heavily, head dropping to the table in exhaustion. He hadn't noticed how tense he was. He heard Yuuri's head hit the table alongside his with a soft thump, and he couldn't help but snicker softly. "Wow...That was..."

 

"Yeah," Yuuri muttered, and Victor reached over to find his hand and link them together, heart soaring when Yuuri squeezed his. He looked up in time to see Yuuri do the same, and his husband asked anxiously, "Do you think she really liked the beef stroganoff? Maybe she was just being nice."

 

Victor smiled at him in an attempt to calm him, raising their joined hands to kiss Yuuri's. "She liked it,  _detka_ , I promise. You were great." He was more than great. He was the bravest person Victor knew, and he was  _his_ husband.

 

Yuuri rubbed at his face with his other hand, completely worn out. "I was a nervous wreck."

 

"Who wouldn't be?"

 

The look Yuuri gives him is very dry. "You practically made friends with my parents the second you walked into the  _onsen_."

 

"I still wanted them to like me, though. They were so nice." They were undoubtedly happy to welcome a foreign tourist, but their warm welcome was truly the first time that Victor felt he could let his guard down in a long, long time. Once it was clear that he was going to be a part of Yuuri's life, the Katsukis made him a part of theirs.

 

He turned towards the hallway, realizing he'd walked past his father's office twice. "...I don't know if I'm ready to go into his office. I want to, but..."

 

"It's okay," Yuuri reassured him. "You don't have to force yourself to go in there."

 

He needed to eventually, and he had no idea if he would ever want to come back here again. "Maybe tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow for sure."

 

The delay felt good. Too good.

 

He heard Yuuri's phone notification go off and turned to see Yuuri tap his phone screen and read the message, wincing very visibly at whatever he'd read. "Is something wrong?"

 

"J-just a text from Mari."

 

"What did she say?"

 

Yuuri seemed to debate whether or not he should tell Victor, but then he slowly said, "...She asked if your mother threw dishes at me...And that she wishes she could be here to..."

 

Victor blinked and prompted, "To...?"

 

"...Back us up," Yuuri finished quietly.

 

He had to cover his mouth to cover the undignified snort that threatened to escape him. "I love your sister," he told Yuuri with a grin.

 

They washed the dishes and made their way up the stairs to shower and finally settle into bed, Victor showering first while Yuuri called his parents. Now Victor was lying on an unfamiliar bed in a once familiar room, stuck on the same page of his e-book for the past fifteen minutes as he strained his ears to listen to any sound signalling his mother's presence. 

 

Nothing. As far as he knew she went right to sleep. He started wondering if she was that exhausted or if she had any sleep medication on hand. Victor was tempted to ask for some, not really trusting his own exhaustion. He had too much on his mind, and going to sleep suddenly seemed harder than any grueling routine Yakov could come up with for him.

 

The door opened and Yuuri walked in, showered and sleepy as he shut the door softly. Victor smiled at him and held his arms out. "There you are. Come here, let's get some sleep."

 

"That's a brilliant idea," Yuuri muttered, crawling onto Victor and lying down on top of him with a sigh, his head neatly tucked beneath Victor's chin.

 

He wrapped his arms around Yuuri, closing his eyes and slowly running his hands up Yuuri's back.

 

His eyes shot open when his hands reached the mercilessly tight muscles of Yuuri's shoulders. "God, Yuuri, your shoulders are like rocks." He gave a sympathetic click of his tongue as he tried to ease some of the discomfort Yuuri was undoubtedly in. "Poor baby, you've been tense all day. Come on, lie on your stomach."

 

Yuuri made a token effort to resist changing their positions, but relented once he was facedown and beneath Victor, who straddled his hips and started to gently knead those stubborn muscles. He knew Yuuri carried more than his fair share of tension that didn't go away unless he was completely relaxed, and that was usually when he was sleeping or after sex. 

 

Victor was very sure Yuuri didn't want him initiating sex with Nadezhda only a few feet away.

 

"You don't have to... _Oh..._ " Yuuri's soft protests died on his lips as Victor worked at his shoulders, thumbs digging little circles into his nape and drawing out hushed sighs and tiny moans of pleasure. Victor loved pulling those sweet little noises from Yuuri, cherishing each one. His hands went lower, focusing on the tension in Yuuri's lower back, rewarding himself with a brief squeeze of those lovely ass cheeks that had Yuuri giggling softly. 

 

Soon it looked like Yuuri was drifting off, and Victor softened his touch as Yuuri relaxed, rubbing firm circles over his back to soothe them both. When he finished he bent down to kiss the spot beneath Yuuri's ear, nuzzling his hair and inhaling the sweet scent of his shampoo. "You smell so good,  _detka,_ " he murmured against Yuuri's soft skin.

 

"Mmm..."

 

Victor guessed those were supposed to be words. He smiled and lifted himself off of Yuuri, lying down beside him and gently pulling him close. Yuuri automatically threw a leg over him, burying his face in Victor's chest. Relaxing, Victor smiled into Yuuri's dark hair.

 

* * *

 

Victor slept somehow. 

 

Of course he didn't wake up in the same position he'd fallen asleep in. His shirt was rucked up his torso and his face was pressed against Yuuri's stomach, his arms wrapped around Yuuri's thighs while Yuuri's were securely wrapped around his head. 

 

For a minute he thought they were still in St. Petersburg, but he didn't hear the familiar sound of Makkachin scratching at the door, barking for food. Then Victor remembered.

 

_My father's dead. Yuuri and I are in my mother's house._

 

He reluctantly extricated himself from Yuuri's grip, careful not to wake him up and making sure he left him in a comfortable position. Yuuri immediately snuggled into the leftover warmth from Victor's body, and he wanted to sink back into sleep with him. 

 

He got up and stretched, checking the time and seeing that it was a few minutes before eight. He was going to go without his jog, which was a little disconcerting. They'd gone to sleep ridiculously early last night and he'd assumed he'd be up before dawn. He took a long last look at Yuuri's sleeping form before leaving the room and heading towards the bathroom.

 

Once his face was washed and his teeth brushed, Victor walked past his mother's room and noticed the door was wide open. She wasn't in there. He peeked in and found that the bed was untidy, the sheets strewn haphazardly over the mattress and the pillows lying in random spots.

 

It reminded him of the way his bedroom looked in the years before Hasetsu.

 

His gaze fell on one of the nightstands, noticing a contact lens case and a bottle of lens solution.

 

Which one of them needed contacts?

 

On the other nightstand he spotted a bottle of what appeared to be sleep aids. His mother's most likely.

 

Victor left the room alone and made his way downstairs, suddenly wanting to look at the garden his father had tended so carefully. When he reached the back door he frowned to see that it was unlocked.

 

Stepping outside he found his mother sitting on a green plastic chair, her arms wrapped around herself as she smoked another cigarette in silence. She looked up, something like surprise briefly blooming in her eyes. 

 

Staring at her, both of them completely alone and unguarded, Victor walked over and pulled another chair closer, sitting down and asking, "How long have you been out here?" The air was heavy and humid, and it almost seemed as if the flowers were drooping from the weight.

 

"Half an hour, maybe," she replied softly, turning to look at the garden. Victor briefly wondered if she would keep taking care of it or let it die. "Did you and Yuuri sleep well?"

 

"We were fine, thanks." He'd slept great, better than he had in the past two days. He hoped Yuuri felt just as rested, remembering how terrified he was in the car yesterday just when they'd arrived at the church. Now his mother was asking about him like she was worried. "...You know, Yuuri was nervous about meeting you."

 

Victor looked up at the sound of her soft laugh. She blew out a stream of smoke and smiled wryly. "I could tell."

 

Frowning, Victor added, "He thought that you wouldn't like him."  _He was so afraid of you and he still came with me._ His memory conjured up images of Yuuri's shock and hurt when he'd told him why his parents wouldn't come to the wedding. He wasn't sure he could forgive that.

 

"He's very brave. Ballsy, even," she admitted, taking another long drag while Victor stared at her. She turned to look at him and said, "I like him, Victor."

 

He supposed he should have felt relieved that she did, but he silently berated himself for thinking he needed her approval. He was Yuuri's husband, and he didn't need his mother's approval at all. Still, stubborn idiot that Victor knew he was, he found himself asking accusingly, "Why didn't you and Papa come to the wedding?"

 

Nadezhda closed her eyes and sighed heavily. "Victor..."

 

"No, tell me," Victor interrupted, all of the tension from the day before returning with a vengeance. But he didn't care. He wanted a good answer out of her, even if Yuuri didn't. Even if Victor had thought he didn't. "Do you know how badly I wanted you to be there? I know we barely spoke after I hit the Senior Division, but I wanted to fix that. I wanted us to try being a family." It was true, Victor wanted to try and salvage his relationship with his parents after he started his life anew with Yuuri. He thought he could forgive their lack of communication, "I wanted you and Papa to get to know the man I love," he said, feeling his voice grow tight.

 

Rubbing her forehead, Nadezhda exasperatedly replied, "Your father and I didn't want to see you repeating our mistakes, Victor!" She met his glare with a resolute look. "We didn't want you getting distracted when your career's at its peak. How will you feel if you don't make the podium a few more times before you retire? All because you were juggling so many things at once?"

 

Victor had to let out a bitter laugh. "What do you know about what I'll feel in the future?" He stared at her, the woman who assumed she knew so much about Victor's when they'd had virtually no communication for nearly two decades. He thought of what she said, and dread built up in his chest. "God, do you actually regret marrying Papa?"

 

"Of course not," she replied, looking angry that he'd even suggested it, though he did catch the lack of conviction in her eyes.

 

"Then you regret having me. That's the mistake you made?" That had to be it. He'd known it since he was a small boy.

 

"No!"

 

"Don't lie to me, I'm too old for that," Victor said tiredly, feeling her resentment and envy keenly. Suddenly he was four years old again, watching his mother run herself ragged around the house cooking, cleaning, and looking after him. Only his father was ever able to raise her spirits. Never Victor, who had learned not to get in her way. "I know you hated having to raise me instead of being able to play. I was  _four_ and I knew you wanted to be anywhere but here! God, I couldn't even get sick without you resenting me for it."

 

"I was nineteen, Victor," his mother shot back defensively. "It just wasn't what I'd planned for myself. It wasn't what your father planned for himself. All we did, we did for _your_  sake."

 

It felt like an accusation, and Victor hated that he felt like crying. "Right. For my sake. Sending me away so I could go home and find bruises bloody blisters all over my legs, and neither of you said anything to make me feel like you...like you even cared..." God, he sounded as petulant as Yurio, but he was tired. Too tired to care.

 

"But you made it through, and look what you became! You were a success, Victor!" his mother insisted.

 

"I became a fucking mess with a pretty smile that managed to fool everybody in the world," Victor said angrily, feeling tears begin to sting his eyes. He'd never imagined he would say this to his mother, but here he was, putting her on trial the day after they'd buried his father. "For  _years_ I felt like I had to change myself so I'd at least have my audience!" Years of relentless practice, risking injury and exhaustion, to keep himself strong and talented so he could be the best and please whoever watched him. Thinking up new ideas until he couldn't anymore, terrified that he was starting to hate putting his skates on. "I worked harder and wracked my brain trying to come up with a way to surprise everyone, to keep them happy so they'd never throw me away...I didn't realize I'd thrown myself away. God, I couldn't even cry in public until I was twenty-seven!"

 

He turned away from Nadezhda, running his fingers through his hair and trying to keep his tears at bay. He was angry and wanted to stay angry, damn it. But it wasn't just that; he didn't want to cry in front of her. He was all glass and she was a stone. "I even tried to change for Yuuri, just to make him happy...I was so mad for him I chased him down, and I said I would be anything he wanted me to be." Then Victor looked his mother in the eye again, facing her shock at all he'd told her. "He was the first one that ever told me that I didn't have to change for anyone. He wanted me to be myself. How was I supposed to do that when I didn't even know who I was? I was dying, Mama...I felt like I was dying until...until Yuuri." 

 

 _And you didn't come to watch me marry him,_ he wanted to say, but he choked on the words.

 

After a long moment Victor tore his gaze away from Nadezhda, sighing raggedly and angrily wiping at the tears that had managed to escape. She wasn't reacting to his rant even though it had taken him everything to get it all out there, saying what he'd wanted to say for such a long time.

 

He wished he'd been able to say it to his father too.

 

Victor wanted to walk away, he knew he needed to walk away before letting himself sink deeper into all of his resentments, his loneliness, all of his unresolved feelings. His mother had taken care of him. His father had laughed with him. Then they left him alone for twenty years. It was all so conflicting and Victor didn't know if he had the strength to face it all head on. He just wanted to go home and focus on skating and Yuuri, holding on until his next appointment with Sergei. 

 

He was going to get up, go back upstairs to Yuuri, get dressed, have that meeting with the lawyers, and walk out of this house for good. He just wanted this to end.

 

"You were a week overdue."

 

Victor gave a start and turned to look at his mother, who was staring at the flowers and plants, holding her lit cigarette with trembling fingers. He stayed where he was, wondering why she'd said that and what she meant.

 

She took deep breath, exhaling shakily, and went on, "It had snowed all night on the 24th. Leonid wouldn't leave my side at all. He was terrified of me going into labor without him around, and he wanted to drive me to the hospital himself."

 

He sat there, silent and listening to every word she said. Victor had never heard this story before. He was born. They brought him home. His father got some semblance of his life back some time later. His mother stayed at home with him. Victor never knew his father had stuck to his mother's side like that.

 

Nadezhda continued, "I started having contractions a little after midnight and he ran out the get the car warmed up right away. He led me out of the house by the hand, very slowly, and drove as carefully as possible." She laughed softly and Victor saw the tears shining at the corners of her eyes. "I gave him so much shit for it, I thought he was driving like a ninety-year-old man and I thought I was going to die without ever getting to the hospital."

 

Victor watched her brush away stray tears, in the same irritated way he had moments ago. "He said so many beautiful things. Kept telling me how much he loved me, how much he loved the baby," she said. "He was so scared at every ultrasound, so sure something would go wrong. He held my hand during the labor, ignoring me when I kept yelling how much I hated him for doing this to me." She turned her gaze towards him, and Victor couldn't look away. "He held you first once the doctors cleaned you up, and he said you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen."

 

He tried to imagine it. He tried to imagine someone other than Yuuri holding him like he was precious and worthwhile, telling him that he was doing just fine, and to not push himself too hard. 

 

"Later he told me, 'Nadya, I'm so scared I'm going to make him hate me. I don't want him to hate me.' I told him that was impossible. He was so sweet no one could hate him." She sighed and covered her face with her hands. She didn't sob, but Victor could see her despair, her weariness. 

 

Victor swallowed, trying to determine what he could say, what he could do because he realized he couldn't bear to see her like this. She was crumbling apart and she had no one to put her back together. "I didn't hate him," he said hoarsely. "Or you. I was just..." Hurt. He would never deny that he was hurt for a very long time. "I know raising me was hard on you, especially after you gave your career up, it's just..."

 

"...We went about this the wrong fucking way," she finally said, raising her gaze and catching Victor by surprise. He hadn't thought she would ever say something like that, to _him_. "Your Papa wanted to give me everything because he knew what I had to give up. He wanted to work hard so you'd be proud of him. You had a gift, and you were doing so well, we didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that. We didn't want you to do anything to jeopardize it either. That's why we disapproved of the wedding." She looked at the ground and added quietly, "But we were wrong."

 

Victor looked at her for a long time, finding it hard to reconcile the heartless woman he'd been so angry at with the misguided parent who was admitting she'd done something wrong. Sighing heavily, he sat back on the chair and told her as he looked at the garden, "Yuuri and I agreed that if we had a problem we'd work on it together. We wouldn't let things build up and pull us apart. It's happened before and we both ended up hurting each other. We're both tight-lipped in our own way, but we've been working on that."

 

He smiled faintly for the first time since he left Yuuri upstairs. "He can sense when something's bothering me and I can do the same for him. I couldn't do that with anyone else, but with him it turned out to be easy." A soft laugh escaped him, easing the ache in his chest. "He's the first one to wonder if he's doing damage to my career, but he's actually saved it. After Sochi I didn't know what the hell I was going to do." Looking at his mother, Victor gave her a true, reassuring smile for the first time. It didn't feel strained, at least. "You don't have to worry about me, Mama."

 

But there was a tiny part of Victor that wanted her to be worried, and actually express it. Just not in the way she had.

 

His mother's gaze was almost gentle, and then she said, "Your Papa would've liked Yuuri. He was worried you weren't ready to get married, that you were going to lose focus. It looks like we were wrong about that."

 

Victor let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, the words making him dizzy with relief. He wished he'd had this talk the day he got that damn text, when his father was still alive, and the three of them could have been together like this at least once before his father had died. But it was just him and his mother. Victor would have to be happy with that. "Thank you, Mama..."

 

He reached over to take her hand, surprised by how cold her skin felt. She turned her hand up to grip his tightly, holding on for a few long moments while Victor's heart raced in his chest. It wasn't the brief, tense hug they'd given each other the day before, but something else entirely.

 

Then she got up and wiped at her face, letting Victor go as she stated, "I'm going to make eggs. Do you want eggs?"

 

Victor looked up at her, very much aware that this was not the woman he knew...or thought he knew. "Yeah..."

 

"Do you still like them scrambled?"

 

She remembered. She actually remembered that. "Of course," he replied with a smile.

 

"What about Yuuri?"

 

"Sunny-side up." He was in his parents' house...and his mother was going to make breakfast for him and his husband.

 

She nodded once and went back inside without another word, leaving Victor alone with his thoughts.

 

This didn't fix everything, he knew that. It didn't erase the fact that he'd been a teenager who was quickly becoming a workaholic. He'd spent years trying to please others, sacrificing himself in the process. What trysts he had as he got older left him physically sated but emotionally unfulfilled. No one held him or looked at him the way Yuuri did, like he wanted to gather every piece of Victor and guard him close. 

 

He got up and went back inside, walking past his mother as she looked through the fridge and up the stairs, needing to be with Yuuri right now.

 

He opened the door in time to find Yuuri looking around the room sleepily, his gaze falling on Victor. Beaming, Victor quickly crawled back into the bed and gathered Yuuri in his arms, kissing him all over his face and murmuring into his hair, "Good morning,  _detka_."

 

Yuuri gave him a tired little smile before burying his face in Victor's chest. "Hi...Where were you?"

 

"I was outside with my mother."

 

He said it very casually but it must have surprised Yuuri, who tensed in his arms and looked up at him with sharp concern. "What happened?" he asked, and Victor loved him for sounding so ready to defend him.

 

"We just...talked," he said, stroking Yuuri's hair and staring into those warm brown eyes.

 

Those eyes, filled with worry for him, kept gazing at him. "Are you okay?"

 

Victor smiled tiredly. He was certainly feeling better than he did yesterday, though this still didn't feel like his home. Too much time had passed for that to change. "I think so," he said, and then he explained everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw "Yuri" is the Slavic form of "George" :)
> 
> Kudos and comments fuel me!
> 
> my tumblr: **aeriamamaduck**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait! *cries*

**Yuuri**

 

**Mari:**

**so are you two still at baba yaga's place?**

 

**Yuuri:**

**I really wish you'd stop calling her that.**

 

**And I wish Yurio had never taught it to you.**

 

**But yes, we're still with Victor's mother. We're about to meet with his father's lawyers so I'm muting my phone for a little while.**

 

**Mari:**

**got it**

 

**but are you two still okay?**

 

**Yuuri:**

**We're fine I promise.**

 

**Mari:**

**no big dramatic explosion yet?**

 

**Yuuri:**

**I'm not saying a word.**

 

**Mari:**

**rude.**

 

**I'll let you get back to it.**

 

**Yuuri:**

**We'll talk later.**

 

Sitting before said lawyer, Yuuri  _did_ wish Mari were sitting beside him. He had no doubt she would manage to look sufficiently intimidating enough to match Nadezhda.

 

That is...if Nadezhda looked as intimidating as Yuuri thought she would, considering this was her husband's will they were looking over. But no. She and Victor wore that same look of quiet devastation, obviously hating the reason they were here.

 

Watching their similar expressions would have been endearing in any other situation, but it was still a little surprising. Not more than the conversation Victor told them they'd had earlier this morning. It wouldn't change things immediately, but it was a definite start. For both of them.

 

The lawyer was gentle as he explained everything, and Yuuri was grateful for that. Victor's earlier decent mood had begun to disappear as soon as they arrived, and he looked rather close to shattering as his father's wishes were laid out for them. Yuuri kept his eye on him, careful to try and listen to everything that was being said.

 

Everything was distributed between Victor, his mother, and various charities and organizations. When asked if they had any questions, Victor and Nadezhda shook their heads, the older woman sensibly saying, "None of this is a surprise to me. Leonid and I agreed on everything beforehand."

 

That had surprised Yuuri, though he immediately felt less tense now that he knew his mother-in-law wasn't going to put up a fight about this. He did feel rather guilty for assuming she would. In spite of its rocky beginnings, Victor's parents had obviously had a good marriage, and for all the mistakes they made in showing it...they cared about Victor.

 

It really wasn't what he'd expected when he agreed to come to Gatchina.

 

Still, Yuuri wouldn't complain. Not when Victor and his mother were just starting to build a shaky bridge back towards each other. As for him...Well, Victor did say that she liked him. She'd even made breakfast for them, and had even asked Victor how Yuuri liked his eggs. He imagined Mari might've warned him that Nadezhda had probably poisoned them.

 

Of course she hadn't. In fact she kept asking if they were good, and they really were. 

 

Yes, not what he'd expected.

 

Once outside again they were all quiet, Yuuri briefly observing that both Nikiforovs put on their sunglasses in the same flourishing manner, tossing long and short hair back before sliding them on.

 

That definitely would've been endearing if Yuuri didn't know that they were hiding tear-swollen eyes.

 

"I'll drive us back," Victor told him before he had a chance to get to the driver's side.

 

"Are you sure?" Yuuri asked quietly, recognizing the forced brightness in Victor's voice. He didn't resent it this time, knowing his husband had something troubling on his mind and was just barely keeping himself together. 

 

"I'll be fine, Yuuri, don't worry," Victor replied with a brief, tight smile.

 

They got back to the house safely, though they were still silent the entire way, save for muted sniffles from Nadezhda in the back seat. Once inside the kitchen they all shed off a layer of tension none of them seemed to notice. 

 

Nadezhda fell into a chair with a heavy sigh, pulling her sunglasses off and rubbing her eyes tiredly. Victor seemed about to join her before hesitating and backing away from the table. "I'll be upstairs."

 

He didn't wait for anyone to reply before leaving the room. 

 

Yuuri saw Nadezhda wordlessly stare after him but say nothing. He swallowed and followed after Victor, growing more worried by the second. He watched Victor steady himself on the banister before starting to make his way up the stairs, a hollow look in his eyes.

 

"Hey," Yuuri called softly in English, looking up at him in concern. 

 

Victor stopped and looked at him, gaze leaden with whatever thoughts were whirling about in his mind. "I'm alright, I'm just..." He trailed off, gaze falling to the stairs as he blinked rapidly.

 

Biting his lip, Yuuri approached him slowly and asked, "Do you want me to bring you some tea?"

 

The older man nodded silently before slowly making his way up the stairs, each step making Yuuri's chest ache, but he could tell that Victor needed quiet before Yuuri could give him what he needed. So he turned and went back to the kitchen, past the office Victor dreaded entering and all of the photographs of the Nikiforovs.

 

Nadezhda looked up at him when he entered, and he was almost startled to see his own worry reflected in her blue eyes. "Is he alright?" she asked, and for the first time Yuuri noticed just how young she sounded.

 

Victor seemed to trust the effort his mother wanted to put in, though Yuuri still had some reservations. But he needed to give her a chance, at least a small one. "He'll be fine," he told her, switching to Russian. Then he remembered what he was there for and realized he had no idea how to find what he needed. Clearing his throat and looking around nervously, he muttered, "I was...going to make him some tea..."

 

"Go ahead and sit down," Nadezhda suddenly said, getting up and putting a hand on his arm. Her skin was smooth and cold. "I'll take care of it," she said with a brief smile before reaching into a cupboard and pulling out a kettle so she could fill it with water.

 

Yuuri felt foolish just standing there looking at her. It was also rather strange to watch her move around the kitchen with ease, reaching into another cupboard for a box of chamomile tea and pulling out two bags. "Thank you," he murmured, feeling uncertain as he sat down, almost ready to stand up at a moment's notice. 

 

She placed two mugs on the table as they waited for the water to boil, though for a moment she seemed to freeze and stare down at the mugs, pain flashing across her face very briefly before it disappeared and she sat down again.

 

With the quick efficiency of her movements, Yuuri wondered if she'd done the same for her husband so many times that the motions were a part of her. A fresh wave of shame hit him and Yuuri bowed his head and said, "I wanted to...apologize for what I said after the funeral mass yesterday. I was out of line, and-"

 

"Don't apologize, Yuuri," she interrupted softly, and shock raced down Yuuri's spine at her words. When he looked up again she was smiling rather sheepishly, and she added, "It was my fault, and you were just defending Victor." She reached into her purse for a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke away from them. "I did the same for my husband once," she added.

 

"You yelled at your mother-in-law?" Somehow Yuuri knew it was entirely possible that she did. He'd known her for a day and it was already obvious that Nadezhda Nikiforova was as blunt and direct as her son.

 

She nodded with a reminiscent grin, tapping ashes onto the surface of the table. "Yekaterina was a cruel piece of work. I'm convinced her awful temper led to my father-in-law's death, and she treated my Leo like he was garbage." Her eyes narrowed at the memory, cold fury filling her gaze. "Leonid was...always very nervous, and he hated confrontation. He was always sweet, and many people took advantage of his good nature."

 

Yuuri nodded, unconsciously leaning in as he listened. 

 

She went on, wearing that same quietly angered look, "One afternoon I brought Victor home from the pediatrician and the old witch was here, yelling at my husband. Leo was struggling with his examinations. It was hard for him to concentrate and he wasn't sleeping well. He was also trying to spend as much time with me and Victor as he could."

 

He tried picturing a man much younger than Victor, stressed and harried from all angles and coping with it as best he could. It was too easy for him to relate to someone like that, knowing what it felt like to put such a heavy amount of pressure on himself.

 

"It was just too much for him," Nadezhda continued, glaring at the glowing end of her cigarette. "His mother came by while he was trying to study and, seeing the state he was in, started to yell at him. I came in and she was saying such awful things. She said he wasn't ever going to amount to anything if he was going to behave like a weakling."

 

"God..." Yuuri rubbed his forehead. It all sounded like something he would have said to himself, hating any show of weakness and resenting his lack of confidence.

 

Nadezhda gave a hard exhale, still angry over the whole thing after so many years. "It wasn't the first time she'd said such things, but I couldn't stand it anymore. I went into the living room, still holding Victor, and found Leo on the verge of tears while Yekaterina stood over him. I told the old cow to get out of my house before I threw her out myself." She gave a wry laugh, her frown melting as she looked at Yuuri again. "And yesterday I acted like that old cow. Victor's more like his father than I thought. Thank goodness he has you."

 

Hearing it was like letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Yuuri had told himself over and over that even if he never had his in-laws' approval, he still had Victor in the end. Still, after all the months of hurt and resentment, it was...just good to hear. He wondered if this was what Victor felt this morning when he and his mother spoke. "I'm...grateful that he's in my life too," he managed to say, blushing at his sudden bout of sincerity. 

 

She smiled at him for that. It almost reminded him of the adoring smiles his own mother would direct at Victor. Once the water boiled she prepared the tea and was about to slide the mugs over to Yuuri before hesitating and asking quietly, "Is Victor...Is he alright?" 

 

He didn't ask what she meant, able to guess what she was likely referring to. "...Not always," he answered just as quietly, thinking about the man waiting upstairs. "But he's taking care of himself." 

 

"Good," Nadezhda breathed, worry still clouding her blue eyes. Suddenly she didn't look so stony anymore, but more like any concerned parent asking about their offspring. "We can love them. We just can't fix them," she said with more of that sensibility Yuuri was beginning to associate with her. 

 

Yuuri reached over to take the mugs, observing the way she twisted her wedding ring on her finger, careful not to burn herself with the still-lit cigarette. "But we do help make them stronger," he said softly, thinking about everything Victor and he had done for each other.

 

"I hope I did, at least," she said, eyes falling on her ring and the cigarette. She sighed with a shake of her head and walked over to the dishwasher, crushing the cigarette in it. "Leonid would be so upset if he caught me smoking indoors. What am I even thinking?" She leaned on the edge for a moment, closing her eyes and breathing before turning to look at Yuuri again, who froze under her gaze. "I'm sorry for not coming to the wedding. My husband would be too."

 

He must have looked ridiculous standing there holding two mugs of tea, staring at his mother-in-law like she'd grown two heads. "Thank you," he finally managed, not really knowing what else to say even though he'd imagined what this moment might feel like a few times. He cleared his throat, undoubtedly feeling a bit more relieved, and said, "I'm going to take this up to him. Please excuse me."

 

"Of course." She paused for a moment before looking around and finding her purse, walking over to the table and picking it up, reaching into it to pull out her keys. "I'm going to go buy groceries so I can make us dinner."

 

Yuuri nodded. "Please be careful."

 

Having watched her walk out the door, Yuuri's shoulders sagged considerably and he made his way out of the kitchen. 

 

He couldn't help but pause at the open door of his father-in-law's office, not stepping inside but still looking in. It was eerie to be so close to the spot where someone died, where someone's mind and body just...came to a total stop. What had he been thinking? What had he felt? Was he looking at the framed photographs propped up on his desk?

 

Everything looked in order from where Yuuri was standing, and he wondered if Nadezhda had cleaned up after returning from the hospital where they'd taken her husband.

 

He walked away, eyes catching a couple of candid shots of Victor's parents. Victor's resemblance to his father was striking, but Leonid seemed to hold himself back the way Yuuri did, especially when the photo was just of him. Leonid's hands were deep in his coat pockets as he gave the camera a reserved, bashful smile. 

 

Making his way up the stairs, Yuuri wondered how Victor's father kept himself together, and how it had taken its toll on him.

 

On all of them, really. Nadezhda was alone and Victor would never really have closure with him. 

 

He entered the bedroom and found Victor lying on his side, clutching Yuuri's pillow as he quietly dozed, a slight frown on his face. Whatever he was thinking about, it was enough to tire him out. Yuuri's heart ached seeing him so vulnerable, and he placed the mugs on the nightstand so he could climb into the small amount of space behind Victor and become the big spoon.

 

He pressed his face against Victor's warm nape, silver hair tickling his nose as he placed a hand on Victor's stomach, feeling his shaky breaths. 

 

Closing his eyes, Yuuri once again tried to imagine an infant Victor in this room, small, warm, and safe, not knowing his future greatness or sorrows. Or joys...Returning to Hasetsu and finding his room all ready for him helped him feel safe after months of feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. There were no signs of such safety in this room, but...

 

Everything was still so complicated. He held on to Victor, willing him to take the strength Yuuri offered, just as he'd done for him so many times. 

 

"Yuuri?" Victor mumbled sleepily, his hand finding Yuuri's and resting on top of it. 

 

"I'm here," he replied, kissing the knob of Victor's spine and squeezing him briefly. "How are you?"

 

"...I don't know." Victor turned around to face Yuuri, his eyes laced with agony from deep within. "My head hurts and I feel...nervous."

 

"What about?" Yuuri asked, this time settling his hand over Victor's back. It truly hurt to see him like this, and Yuuri felt just as fearful. Like he and Nadezhda agreed earlier, they couldn't fix everything. 

 

Victor sat up, staring at his crossed legs and clutching the sheets underneath him as he sighed heavily. "I'm thinking too much. I'm getting ahead of myself, but I don't know if I can stop."

 

"Oh." Yuuri knew how that felt. Like a runaway train, devastating the mind and body, leaving cold and pain in its wake, along with a feeling of hopelessness. He moved to sit in front of Victor, reaching up to stroke his face and thread his fingers through his soft hair. "Nothing's happened yet. We're both right here, in the now," he said in gentle tones. "Do you want to talk about it?"

 

Victor didn't look at him at first, quiet for a few moments before his hand closed over Yuuri's wrist, hanging on to it. His voice was tight as he explained, "When we were with the lawyer, I was...thinking about everything my mother said, and everything I wanted to say to my father. I started trying to put myself in their position, thinking about the kind of father I might be, and..."

 

He trailed off, eyes wide and nervous as though he'd said too much. Yuuri kept looking at him, his heart beating hard after Victor mentioned fatherhood. Victor swallowed visibly and looked down at their joined hands, saying quietly and shakily, "...I know it's not the right time for us to talk about this, but...Yuuri, if we ever have children I don't want them growing up like I did. I don't want them to feel like they have to earn my love."

 

It was like a blast of air. Had the topic of children really slipped by unnoticed for so long, even as they planned their wedding and a life together? Yuuri liked kids, and Victor was great with them, playful while taking their little worries seriously. Still, it was worlds away from actively raising a child, and Yuuri wasn't quite sure how Victor felt about that. "Do you want kids, Victor?" he asked apprehensively.

 

Victor squeezed his hand, worry in his eyes as he replied thoughtfully, "I think so. If you'd asked me two years ago I probably would've said no. I've always liked children but I didn't really see myself as a parent. I was unhappy for a long time, and I was too selfish to be a parent." He looked right at Yuuri then, a weak smile appearing on his face. "Now it feels different. Like if I had to become a parent tomorrow I'd do everything I could to make sure they were happy. It's just...I'm terrified that I'll still be bad at it. I feel like whatever I do, any child I have will end up hating me."

 

The answer astonished Yuuri, and learning the extent of Victor's self-doubt filled his heart with pain. "Oh, Victor...You can't possibly know that yet."

 

Humming in acknowledgement, Victor didn't reply to that. Instead he asked, "What about you?"

 

"...I'd _like_ to have kids. Not now, but maybe one day," Yuuri replied honestly. "I always thought it'd be nice to have a kid, but eventually I didn't think that it would happen. I wanted a family but...I didn't explicitly go after anyone in particular and I didn't think I'd really interest anyone. Hell, you were my first relationship and the first person I ever had sex with...Before you came along, I was worried I'd never get to have something like  _this._ " He pointed back and forth between himself and Victor, making his husband smile a bit wider.

 

Yuuri went on, "I used to think, 'one day I'll get married and have a family.' Always 'one day,' and it was never a certainty. Then everything seemed to go wrong all at once and 'one day' became 'never.'" Realizing it at the time had hurt, along with so many other things. "Never" had covered a lot about Yuuri's life and the future he once hoped he would have. He'd never connect with anyone. He'd never meet Victor or befriend him. He'd never fail to disappoint everybody. "As much as I wanted to, I didn't feel like I'd ever be emotionally ready to be a parent, and I also thought I was too selfish. So kids were...an unreachable dream for a really long time, like a lot of things were."

 

Victor nodded, taking it all in and biting his lip. "Then you want to wait some more before we discuss it?" he asked, voice sounding less tight now that they'd spoken.

 

It was a good idea. They'd said so much in only a few moments, but it really wasn't the right time to make such a big decision, and they still had many other things to contend with before committing to parenthood. "Yeah. I don't want either of us to feel pressured into making big decisions before we're ready. At least not while we're _both_ competing."

 

At that, Victor managed a much brighter smile, bringing their joined hands up to kiss Yuuri's knuckles as if sealing a deal. "Alright, then. I can't wait to discuss having children with you one day."

 

Yuuri laughed breathlessly, his heart beating wildly in his chest at the thought.

 

One day. 

 

The mood a bit lighter, Victor grinned at him and asked cheekily, "Do you want triplets so we can raise them to be as scary as Axel, Lutz, and Loop?"

 

" _TRIPLETS_ _?!"_ Yuuri exclaimed, heart stopping at the thought. The thought of  _one_ kid made him nervous, but multiples? God, how did Yuuko and Takeshi even  _manage?_

 

His husband laughed softly, the sound of it making Yuuri smile. He squeezed Yuuri's hand again, voice gentle as he said, "If we do have kids..." He gazed at Yuuri, open and honest. "You're going to be an amazing parent."

 

Victor believed in him. That would never stop feeling wonderful. "So will you," he said, leaning in to kiss the older man. His lips were a little chapped and his eyes were still rimmed with red, but Yuuri never wanted to stop looking at him. 

 

He dug his hands into Victor's hair, keeping him close as his mouth moved slowly against his. With a soft laugh against his lips, Victor wrapped his arms around him and pulled Yuuri over him, lying back down and still kissing him. Smiling down at him Yuuri pressed more soft kisses against his jaw, lips moving over the skin beneath his ear. "Where's my mother?" Victor asked, burying his fingers in Yuuri's hair.

 

"She went out to get groceries for dinner," Yuuri murmured against Victor's ear, nuzzling it for a long moment before kissing the shell. He felt Victor's hand make its slow way down his back, groping at his ass and squeezing with tender enthusiasm. Yuuri smiled into Victor's skin, hiding his face in his neck as he straddled him and let him run his hands over his body.

 

Their soft sighs filled the room, Victor holding him close as they kissed for the sheer sake of it, moving lazily against each other. Yuuri moved a hand over Victor's heart, feeling it beat hard and fast. He heard Victor's breaths deepen and a roll of his hips made him realize they were both aroused, both of them hissing in surprise at the contact. Blushing hotly, Yuuri blinked down at Victor in surprise. "Are...are you...?"

 

Victor looked sheepish, his cheeks coloring. "It's not like I'm the only one," he said with a pout, countering it by rolling his hips to meet Yuuri's again.

 

He grunted and pressed his face against Victor's neck again. " _Fuck_ , Victor...We really shouldn't. Your mother's coming back soon."

 

Victor kissed and sucked at his neck desperately, breathing hard with desire as both hands grabbed Yuuri's rear. "Then let's not waste more time, Yuurichka. We've done it at Yu-topia with your parents and sister around, and that's never stopped us."

 

He was right, though he was omitting that Yuuri usually had to shut Victor up with a kiss or a hand over his mouth during such occasions when he did throw caution to the wind and have sex with Victor in his room. Exhaling shakily and stopping his hips after realizing he'd still been moving them for the sweet friction, Yuuri whispered urgently, "We didn't bring any lube, though! Or condoms!"

 

"We haven't used condoms in months," Victor said, low and needy into Yuuri's ear. "We can do other things,  _detka_."

 

"I don't want to make a mess on the sheets," Yuuri insisted, raising his head and looking down at the open lust on Victor's face. "The sh...shower?"

 

Victor beamed up at him, his eyes slightly brighter. "I love you so much," he breathed.

 

Yuuri smiled back, heart racing at the thought of doing this while Nadezhda was away. It sobered him a little as he straightened and gently tugged Victor out of bed, the older man looking happy and wind-swept as he followed Yuuri out of the room, and he resolved to make this as soft and comforting as he possibly could. 

 

The rest of the house didn't disappear completely, even if they were locked in the bathroom and scrambling to take their clothes off between kisses. But for a few minutes this was their tiny little space, where they could touch and soothe and kiss, at least while they were still alone.

 

Once they were in the shower and beneath a stream of hot water things slowed down a bit. Yuuri watched Victor turn his face up towards the stream, closing his eyes and sighing at the heat. Wrapping his arms around Victor's waist, Yuuri bent his head to press gentle kisses onto his chest, nosing his sternum as water flowed over them and Victor embraced him back. 

 

"I'm so lucky," Victor murmured into his hair, the sincerity in his voice making Yuuri tighten his arms around him. Victor did the same, his breaths becoming shaky again with every moment that passed. 

 

Yuuri raised his gaze up to Victor's and kissed him softly, hand moving down to wrap around the older man's hard length. He watched Victor's eyes flutter closed with a gasp against his mouth, and moved his hand slowly and steadily as he kept holding Victor close. Yuuri let out a broken noise when Victor's hand found his erection, his other hand gripping Yuuri's hair tightly to keep his gaze on him.

 

"How...how do you feel?" Yuuri asked, biting his lip and blinking rapidly beneath the water and Victor's heated gaze.

 

"Good," Victor gasped, eyes filling with desperation as he pulsed in Yuuri's hand. "You always make me feel good."

 

Surging up to capture Victor's lips, Yuuri felt his husband's answering moan vibrate against his mouth, their hands moving steadily over each other's slick cocks as they kept thrusting against each other. He could feel Victor tremble in his arms, tearing his mouth away from Yuuri's and groaning against his temple as the younger man pressed him against the wall. Wet forehead sliding against Victor's, Yuuri looked into the perfect blue of the man's eyes, hips jerking as he made a choked noise that was so close to a scream as he came over Victor's hand.

 

He kept his own grip on Victor's cock firm, thumb running across the head as he shook and listened to Victor pant with effort. "Oh my god," Victor moaned. "Yuuri..."

 

"Please, Vitka," Yuuri gasped, pumping his fist a little harder to coax Victor to orgasm. "Please, I want you to."

 

Victor went still as he came, moaning low and filthy as Yuuri stroked him through it until he whined and batted at Yuuri's hand. Yuuri felt him start to sink to the floor, but kept him pressed securely against the wall while they caught their breath, both of them flushed and and trembling beneath the stream of hot water.

 

It was like a sweet haze, and Yuuri happily sank into it, heart steadily beating as he felt a relaxation he knew wouldn't last long. Once he was sure Victor would remain upright, Yuuri shut the water off and carefully sank to his knees, hands stroking the front of Victor's hard thighs as leaned in to press his lips against the other man's spent length.

 

Victor gaped, speechless as Yuuri held his soft cock in his hand before opening his mouth and taking it in, gently curling his tongue beneath it as Victor gasped shakily and gripped Yuuri's hair, the younger man feeling his thighs shake. " _Shit,_ " Victor hissed, sounding pained at the unexpected overstimulation. "Yuuri...Yuuri, I just came," he gasped out, begging.

 

Yuuri hummed in acknowledgement, appreciating the little twitch of the man's hips and the weak cry he let out. He stroked underneath the head and tongued at the slit, slowly bringing Victor back to full hardness as he moaned, shaky and helpless as he held on tightly to Yuuri's hair. 

 

Hands moving to greedily squeeze Victor's buttocks, Yuuri coaxed him into thrusting shallowly into his mouth. He looked up, finding Victor's agonized gaze with his and moaning with want, loving the way that beautiful face above him twisted with pleasure. Letting out rough groans the closer Yuuri brought him to the edge, Victor sounded like he was unable to form a coherent word, tugging on Yuuri's hair to signal how close he was.

 

The only sound out of Victor's throat when he came was a broken gasp, spending himself down Yuuri's throat as the younger man swallowed as much as he could, pulling back and letting the stream of come dribble down his chin. Licking it into his mouth, Yuuri felt his head clear and looked up to see Victor shaking much harder than before, expression caught between agony and bliss before tiredly running his hands over his face. 

 

Letting his arms fall to his sides, Victor panted with fatigue as he gazed down at Yuuri, utterly adoring. With the droplets of water on his face, Yuuri couldn't tell if the man had tears in his eyes. A tired laugh erupted out of Victor's mouth as he steadied himself, still holding on to Yuuri's wet hair.

 

Yuuri couldn't resist laughing with him, his voice sounding like gravel as he leaned his forehead against Victor's thigh. "I can't believe we just did this. I can't believe I just did  _this_ in your mother's bathroom."

 

He looked up and met Victor's dry gaze. "Really. You just made me come twice and you're going to mention my  _mother?"_  

 

They laughed again, Yuuri feeling pleasantly dizzy as he got to his feet. He and Victor held on to each other as their laughter slowly faded into an easy silence, and they enjoyed the familiar feeling of each other's skin. Without a word Yuuri turned the water back on, both of them flinching at the brief blast of cold water before it got warmer.

 

Once they were cleaned up and dressed, they lazily made their way back to the bedroom, and once inside Yuuri's stomach dropped when he spotted the two mugs on the nightstand. "Oh no."

 

"What?" Victor asked, wrapping his arms around Yuuri's waist as he came up behind him.

 

Yuuri bit his lip guiltily and pointed at the mugs. "The tea your mother made for us is cold..."

 

Victor's arms tightened around him slightly when he looked at the nightstand. "Mama made them?"

 

"Yeah, she did," Yuuri replied with a soft smile. 

 

Silently letting him go, Victor made his way to the nightstand and picked up one of the mugs, a red one that looked like the handle had been broken and carefully glued back. He looked at it thoughtfully before a faint smile appeared on his face, and he raised the mug to his mouth to sip at the undoubtedly cold tea.

 

He was meeting his mother halfway. God, Yuuri loved him.

 

They made their way downstairs and back into the complications of their surroundings. Victor still walked past his father's office, never pausing as they walked into the kitchen and sat at the table to wait for Nadezhda, sipping cold tea and just sitting together quietly. Yuuri couldn't help but wonder what would happen in the next few days, and how this new relationship of theirs with Nadezhda would turn out. Having no answers bothered him, but he knew he couldn't let his thoughts run away from him. It wouldn't do any good.

 

When Nadezhda opened the door bearing plastic bags, Yuuri and Victor immediately stood up to help her bring everything in and set it on the table. "Was everything alright?" Victor asked her, Yuuri seeing a very familiar glow of anticipation in her eyes.

 

"Yes! Yes, it is," she replied brightly, running a hand through her blonde hair as she bit her lips nervously, looking shaky and anxious. She then dug through one of the bags and pulled out three boxes of what looked like...patches. Yuuri looked at them in confusion, trying to decipher the Cyrillic. Nadezhda handed a box to Victor, looking apprehensive as she asked, "So I'm just supposed to put one of these on my arm?"

 

Victor's eyes widened with surprise as he looked between the box and his mother, asking in astonishment, "Did you decide to quit smoking?"

 

Nadezhda's smile was nervous and held forced enthusiasm. "Yes. Yes, I did." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment!


	5. Chapter 5

**Victor**

 

Sitting in the living room with Yuuri was proving to be a rather surreal experience for Victor. He remembered sitting still on the couch, his mother's only audience whenever she played the piano with a passion that had entranced him even at that age.

 

He recalled times when he'd hide at the top of the stairs and found his father sitting next to his mother on the bench, his hand resting on the small of her back as she played calm pieces, gentle ones that his father would hum in his ear when he'd take him to bed.

 

Now he sat quietly beside Yuuri, waiting for his mother to return from his father's office, having told them to wait while she got something from there that she wanted to show them. Her eyes were bright with...something akin to excitement. Maybe that's what it was, but Victor didn't quite know how to recognize it in his mother's eyes. Or he couldn't remember how to.

 

Victor had no idea why he was so happy to go along with whatever his mother was planning. Maybe it had to do with the two wonderfully relaxing orgasms Yuuri had given him earlier. He leaned on Yuuri with a lazy grin, burying his face in his dark hair and chuckling softly when Yuuri leaned back into him and found his hand to give it a squeeze.

 

"The nicotine cravings are going to start soon," Yuuri whispered in Japanese, glancing at the hall to see if Nadezhda was approaching.

 

"What makes you say that?" Victor asked, just as softly and in the same language. The smell still clung to everything and likely wouldn't fade for a long time unless his mother suddenly decided to get rid of all the furniture. 

 

"Mari's tried quitting twice already. It's not exactly easy," Yuuri reasoned. He looked about to elaborate more, but drew away when Nadezhda walked back into the room, bearing a plastic container that looked like it might hold two pairs of shoes.

 

She set it in front of them and Victor asked, "What are these?"

 

"All the old photos and tapes," she explained, settling on her knees as she opened the lid, revealing packages that were mostly of paper and cardboard, thinned by the years. She handed one to both of them and added, "I want you two to have them."

 

Yuuri looked up at her in shock. "We couldn't take these!"

 

"It's fine! These are copies. I always sorted the originals into albums as soon as I could," Nadezhda insisted, tossing her hair back and revealing the patch on her wrist. "Besides, Yuuri, you really ought to see more of Victor's baby pictures."

 

Victor couldn't speak, opening the thin paper envelope and carefully tugging out a few photographs. He'd pored over almost every photo of Yuuri that Hiroko and Toshiya possessed, tracking his growth and loving the way pride glittered in their eyes when they looked at those images of their son and daughter. He never liked thinking about where his own photos were and, in his bitterest moments, thought that maybe there were none. But there were albums, albums that his parents might have looked at if...when they missed him. 

 

He gazed at the image of himself as a toddler, round-cheeked and sleeping atop his mother's belly, her hand on his back as she gave the man behind the camera a sleepy smile. He turned the photo around, finding a date written in blue ink; he was a year and five months old in it.

 

"Oh, wow," Victor heard Yuuri breathe, and he turned to see him staring at a photograph of a slightly older Victor, bundled up in a thick coat, a scarf, and a hat, but still they could see his beaming face. He was four years old and holding on tightly to his father's hand as he stood on the ice for the first time. It was one of his earliest memories, and he remembered being fascinated by the skates as his mother laced them for him, unable to wait until he could test those magical shoes that let people walk on ice.

 

He wanted to ask when it was that they knew he was good, good enough to be remarkable, one of the best in the world. Good enough that his entire world changed and he barely remembered what home was after so many years. Victor gave Yuuri's wrist a brief squeeze, and thought of Hiroko and Toshiya for what seemed to be the hundredth time in these past few days.

 

The look in Yuuri's dark eyes reminded Victor of everything he'd felt when Hiroko and Mari had dug up every photo of Yuuri, mainly adoration. He blushed lightly, looking at Yuuri as he seemed to memorize everything about the photo in his hand. "Was this Victor's first time on the ice?" he asked with an eager look.

 

"It was," Nadezhda replied, turning to Victor with a soft, reminiscent smile. "It was all my mother's idea. She's the one who gave him those skates on his birthday."

 

 _Irina_ , Victor remembered. He had no clear memory of his father's parents, save for a faded recollection the sound of a voice raised in anger leading to his father holding him tightly. When he thought of his other grandmother, he remembered a face with softened features, eyes like his mother's and a kind voice. "When did she die?"

 

Nadezhda's smile faded slightly, and for a very brief moment a lost look flickered in her eyes. It startled Victor, like many other things his mother did, and suddenly he felt the curiosity he once subdued surface once again. He wanted to know about her, his family and their complexities. All the words his grandmother Irina would have said to him in her sweet voice. "Two months after that, actually," she said. "She'd been sick for years. You caught a cold, so you weren't at her funeral. Our neighbor took care of you."

 

"I barely remember that," Victor said, searching for any memories he might have tucked away of the event. He didn't remember ever seeing his mother cry, or if he'd missed his parents at some time or another. When had he finally noticed his grandmother was no longer around? Just how much had he forgotten?

 

The very question filled him with an aching dread, one he didn't want to linger in. Victor tried to stay calm, telling himself that it was something that happened to so many people. Years passed and childhood cares suddenly became trivial until they were quite easily forgotten, maybe reappearing by surprise one day.

 

He turned to look at Yuuri, who was looking at him with tender worry while holding the photograph of Victor skating in both hands, like it would break if he dropped it. It helped ground him, and he started to count his breaths and keep them steady. "Thank you, Mama," he said quietly, briefly locking gazes with her and shocking himself with the concern in her eyes. He smiled at her, an action he was much too used to, and added, "We'll take good care of these, I promise." He glanced at Yuuri very briefly before adding, "I...also want to show you things from the wedding."

 

His mother's eyes widened at that. "I...I'd like that. Thank you," she said, looking at them both with surprise. Victor could feel Yuuri's shocked gaze on him, and took his phone out to pull up everything he had of that day to get them started. 

 

He wanted his father here, he realized. He wanted to show him the images from what had been the best day of his life so far, to show him he would be fine, that Victor  _wanted_ to be happy with the man he loved. He wanted the chance for more with the man who'd been so out of his reach for years, and now was much beyond it. "I can send you a DVD when we get back to Saint Petersburg, but we do have some photos and videos on our phones, though," he said with as much brightness as he could muster, grabbing the chance he now had with his mother, who now seemed just as desperate for that same chance.

 

She took the phone when he handed it to her, and gazed at the image of Yuuri's family. Yuuri, apparently having gotten over the shock, leaned forward to point at each person in the photo. "Those are my parents, Toshiya and Hiroko, and this is my sister, Mari," he explained, a quiet fondness in his voice. 

 

"You have your mother's face, Yuuri," Nadezhda said, and Victor had to suppress a sigh of relief at the little laugh in her voice. Yuuri wasn't a faceless threat to Victor's career anymore. He could only hope that, one day, they might have as warm a relationship as Victor had with Hiroko and Toshiya. He might not have had memories of her warmth, but perhaps there was something that he'd missed, something he'd forgotten. Even with all the regret and resentment she couldn't quite manage to hide, she gave birth to him and made sure he was safe and healthy. 

 

"That's what a lot of people have said," Yuuri replied, smiling at her with a look of relief on his own face. 

 

Yuuri had just as many photos and videos of the wedding as Victor, Phichit and Christophe having made it their sacred duty to cram as much of it all as possible in both of their phones. Eventually his mother got to one of the longer videos on Victor's phone, which was of Yuuri saying his vows. He felt a familiar tightness in his throat when she opened it to listen, and glanced at Yuuri to find a sheepish blush on his face. He was translating for Nadezhda as the phone camera focused on Yuuri's face, and he got through the part where Yuuri's words had his heart beating uncontrollably.  _"...You encouraged me to reach the top...but I keep wanting to go higher still."_   The Yuuri in the video hurriedly wiped tears from his eyes, and he added,  _"And I want you with me through it all."_

 

At that, the Victor in the video immediately took Yuuri's face in his hands and kissed him, drawing applause from their guests (and a few teary sniffles from Phichit behind the camera). Watching it all over again, Victor leaned into Yuuri with a sigh, closing his eyes and nosing into his husband's warm skin. Sometimes he pulled up the video just to watch that moment, finding himself just as affected as he'd been after Yuuri said those beautiful words in front of everyone who cared about them. Yuuri's warm hand settled on his, concrete and reassuring. 

 

When he opened his eyes he stared at his mother, who kept watching the video and looking through the photos with a tiny smile. What else might she have been thinking about? Her own wedding? Victor knew very little about it, save for the circumstances that led to it. Was it small? Did people talk? Did they know why they'd had to marry so quickly? Did his parents feel anything else other than terror? Out of everything had come thousands of questions Victor wanted answered.

 

They soon moved to the kitchen, Victor deciding to cook this time while his mother was still looking at everything they had from the wedding on their phones, asking Yuuri questions about who was who and what was being said. He observed her briefly every now and then, noting the slight shake of her leg underneath the table. Maybe a sign of those nicotine cravings Yuuri had told him about. She certainly didn't sound impatient, but genuinely engaged in Yuuri's explanations. 

 

"I suppose you'll go back to Saint Petersburg tomorrow," she asked while they ate. 

 

God, had they really been away for so long? Victor then had to wonder for a moment if these past few days had really occurred. Things had changed in the wake of his father's death, and while Victor was glad for every new opportunity that lay before him, he wished that it hadn't taken his father dying to bring them together again. "That's right," he replied, wondering what his mother would do now. She was an only child and her parents were long dead. She mentioned having students, but otherwise...He felt guilty.

 

"We wanted to thank you for your hospitality," Yuuri said to her kindly. "It's meant a lot."

 

Victor knew he was referring to more than just her hospitality. And so did she, it seemed.

 

She smiled back at Yuuri, something tender and wonderful to see. "Don't be strangers, alright?," she said to them. "You're both welcome here."

 

He took the words to heart, wondering if he would one day feel as comfortable in this place as he did in Hasetsu. Maybe make that room his again, even if he wasn't that same little boy anymore. "And you're welcome in Saint Petersburg," he said, reaching over to take her hand, knowing she didn't deserve to sink into the same aching loneliness he had. Victor could at least try to gradually bring her into his world, and not let her feel so alone after losing her father.

 

When he and Yuuri later went to their bedroom, Victor avoided looking into the office yet again. 

 

He hadn't expected to fail in that regard.

 

And then he avoided thinking about it for another hour, giving Yuuri his turn in the shower while he started packing their clothing, melancholy filling him as he thought of how they'd buried his father and Victor never got the chance to tell him everything he'd needed to say, to give  _him_ a chance to explain things or even meet Yuuri. He would have loved him, certainly.

 

If Victor thought about it, he supposed Yuuri and his father were both very similar people; mild-mannered, kind, and a bit shy at first. It amused him somewhat. 

 

After he'd taken his own shower, Victor re-entered the room to find Yuuri asleep on the bed, his phone lying on his chest. Victor stifled his laugh, climbing into bed beside him and taking his phone, seeing that he'd been in the middle of typing a now incomplete row of Japanese text. It was to Mari, most likely. Shutting the screen off, Victor heard Yuuri sigh and turn towards him, face nearly burrowing into Victor's hip. 

 

Yuuri opened his eyes, their lovely cinnamon color succeeding in making Victor's heart flutter. He smiled and reached down to slide Yuuri's glasses off of his face so he could settle a bit more comfortably. "How is my sleeping beauty?" he asked quietly.

 

"Tired," Yuuri replied, lifting his hand to place it on Victor's thigh and gently stroke it. "You surprised me."

 

"Don't I always?" Victor asked, running his fingers through Yuuri's hair and gently tugging at the edge of his ear.

 

Yuuri giggled softly and swatted at Victor's hand, looking up at him with a smile. "I didn't think you'd offer to show her things from the wedding so soon."

 

He supposed it was a surprise, considering...all of the unpleasantness. He shrugged, still feeling the softness of Yuuri's hair. "I'm tired of being angry, I suppose...I just wish my father..."

 

"I know," he heard Yuuri answer softly, and Victor looked down to watch him fight sleep for a few moments until he finally gave in.

 

Victor gazed at Yuuri's face, letting the sight of it ground him the way nothing else could. He was leaving Gatchina again, and just like back then something fundamental had changed. 

 

It didn't feel right, leaving like...

 

Like what, he didn't know. 

 

If it was still his father, Victor rationally knew he would never have that closure. That didn't mean he had to like it, but what else could he do? Seeing his body had made his death real, but...it wasn't quite the goodbye that Victor felt he wanted to say.

 

That office, then. That damned office. Victor wasn't sure what good it would do, or if he'd even be brave enough to step inside. 

 

Victor sighed and carefully got up, making sure he didn't wake Yuuri. Hadn't he risked everything to travel to Japan and find the young man who'd drunkenly asked Victor to coach him? Surely  _this_ was...

 

...His father had died in that room.

 

That had to be enough reason.

 

He stepped out of the room, closing the door softly and trying to be as quiet as possible as he made his way down the stairs, his heart beating with a familiar dread as he passed the dozens of photographs hanging on the walls. He stood at the threshold, feeling...something unidentifiable as he stepped over it.

 

Had it been so simple all along?

 

No, he realized.

 

He felt emotionally taxed, standing inside the room and wondering what his father might have been thinking in his last minutes, if he'd felt any pain before finally dying, knowing what was happening to him, maybe feeling afraid for the briefest moment before it was all over.

 

Had he thought of Victor? Of his mother?

 

Victor went to stand behind the desk, and his heart gave a jolt at the framed photographs set up there. 

 

One wasn't entirely surprising. It was of his mother, her hair windswept as she smiled at the camera, her eyes twinkling with mirth. She looked absolutely stunning. Next to it was a framed selfie of Victor, bundled up in a coat and scarf and beaming like it had been the best night of his life. 

 

And it had been.

 

It was the night before the final in Barcelona, when they'd all gathered for drinks. Victor could see the back of Yuuri's black hair in the shot, as he'd been preoccupied speaking with Mari and Minako. He'd taken the selfie and posted it instantly, but couldn't recall the comment that had accompanied it. 

 

Had his father found it? Gone looking for it? Or someone had shared it with him. What had gone through his head that he'd wanted to keep  _this_ particular image of Victor close? Did he see that Victor was actually smiling because he  _felt_ like smiling, and not because there was an audience watching?

 

Victor heard footsteps and looked up, caught off-guard. His mother stood just outside, staring at him in surprise. "Vitya. I didn't know you were in here."

 

"Is it okay?'

 

"It's fine," she said, stepping inside. "I thought you wouldn't want to come in before you left. I'm glad you did."

 

She was smiling at him, and Victor wondered if this was what his father got to see and experience every day of his life since meeting her. Had she stopped his heart with her passion and drive, the way Yuuri did to Victor? Swallowing, he quietly asked her, "Did you come in right away after...you came back from the hospital?"

 

Her smile faltered and she sighed, and Victor realized just how open she was, shoulders lowered rather than drawn in defensively. He was still her son, after all, and he wanted to weep at the knowledge of it. "I did..." She was quiet again and moved to stand beside him, looking at the desk and the photos in front of them. "I sat down in his chair and cried for three hours. When I'd exhausted myself I wondered if it was all real. If I'd actually really spoken to you on the phone." She turned to look up at him, quiet for a moment before lifting her hand to gently stroke Victor's bangs back, making him inhale sharply. "God, you look just like him."

 

Her hand settled over his cheek, and Victor closed his eyes to lean into it, his heart aching for the teenage boy in him that had longed for a touch so loving. A touch that hadn't come until Yuuri appeared. She stroked his cheek with her thumb before drawing it away, asking, "Is there anything you might want to take from this room?" 

 

Victor looked around aimlessly. "I don't know. If I had more time I'd..." He trailed off and absently opened one of the desk drawers, thinking that maybe he'd leave everything where it was, and his eyes widened at the object lying there among various other objects. A thin frame enclosing the familiar icon that had hung in his room since he was two years old. Victor picked it up, breaths shaky as he looked at the image of Saint George. "Mama, this is my..."

 

Her hand was on his arm, squeezing soothingly. "I told you he had it. You know my mother gave that to you when you were two," she explained, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. "She adored you."

 

Of course, he knew his father had kept it. Still, Victor gazed at it, his throat tightening, and asked in hushed tones, "Why would he keep it all this time?"

 

He glanced at his photo on the desk and realized why.

 

_Because it was mine._

 

A tear made its way down his face, followed by many more. His shoulders shook and he had to hide his face in his hand, stifling his sobs and wondering for the hundredth time why things had to happen this way. Why couldn't they have all come together just one more time? Why did Victor have to just settle for fading memories of his childhood?

 

His mother wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing him hard as he felt her own tears moisten his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her smaller form as he buried his face in her hair, hanging on to the icon tightly.  _My papa's dead,_ he thought.  _I lost him. I lost him._

 

It made him hold on tighter to his mother.

 

He had no idea how long they stood there, holding each other. He felt exhausted when she drew away, her eyes red from weeping. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, her voice sounding worn.

 

Victor said nothing, merely nodding at her as he wiped his tears away. He leaned in to brush his lips against her cheek, smiling at her one more time before turning and leaving the room.

 

He couldn't wait to be back in Yuuri's arms, and it seemed as though someone had granted his wish instantly when Victor looked up the stairs and found Yuuri sitting at the top, his eyes glistening with tears as he looked down at Victor. 

 

Yuuri stood as Victor made his way up, taking Victor's hands in his and squeezing them before asking, "Are you okay?"

 

Victor sighed raggedly, so very exhausted. "I will be," he replied simply, letting Yuuri lead them back to the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

"You should bring your dog next time," his mother commented as Victor closed the trunk that held their luggage and the box of photos and videotapes.

 

"I thought you didn't like dogs," Victor retorted with a grin. "I remember begging for one at least twice a week, but neither of you would give in!"

 

She raised an eyebrow and smiled back at him dryly. "I suppose I could get used to having one around. Yuuri!" she called, and Victor saw Yuuri give a small start. "Don't leave without a hug."

 

"Right, sorry!" Yuuri said as he hurriedly made his way to her, blushing as he tentatively gave her a hug that she returned twofold. His eyes widened at the warmth before he settled into it with a soft smile that made Victor happy.

 

His mother kissed both of his cheeks and said, "Thank you for everything, Yuuri."

 

Yuuri gazed back at her with a smile as they parted. "You're welcome, ma'am," he said softly. "Please take care of yourself."

 

He looked at Victor, who sighed as he prepared himself for this parting. He was determined that it wouldn't be like before, that he would be the one to step forward and call, or drive over to make sure she was fine. Anything to welcome her into his life. This goodbye was...surprisingly as painful as when he'd been a boy, except that he knew what awaited him at his destination. Best of all he wouldn't be alone this time. 

 

"I'll see you soon, Mama," he said quietly, taking a step towards her.

 

She met him halfway, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheeks before drawing away slightly and looking up at him. "That one's from me. This one's from your father." Then she hugged him a bit longer, a hand stroking down his back as he stood there, shocked to the bone.

 

It took him several seconds before he hugged her back, holding her tightly and wishing for more than what was possible. When they parted she was smiling at him, and she said, "Call me when you get there, alright?"

 

"I will," he chuckled, finally letting her go and getting in the car beside Yuuri, who would drive again. Victor wanted time to think, to wonder what might happen, and even gaze at Yuuri as they made their way home to get back to their normal lives.

 

They drove off and Victor kept his eyes on the rear view mirror, watching his mother's figure become smaller the further away they drove. Once she was no longer visible, Victor pulled out the icon from his pocket and looked at it. 

 

"I'm glad you found it," Yuuri said softly, reaching over to squeeze Victor's arm briefly before returning it to the wheel. 

 

"So am I," Victor said, lifting his eyes to watch the road ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is, the end of the main story. Next up is an epilogue with a couple of new POVs!
> 
> As you might surmise, Nadezhda does become a big part of Victor and Yuuri's lives, thus being a part of baby Alyosha's life (not quite a baby at four, but you know what I mean xP)! She hasn't had a chance to appear in those stories yet because I didn't want to spoil THIS story before I could finish it.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy reading this and please leave a comment!


	6. Epilogue

**Yuri**

 

Yuri hated waiting.

 

That alone was bad enough, but waiting for Yakov was like a dash of additional torture atop the boredom he was currently experiencing as he stood outside the rink. 

 

Victor and Yuuri were still inside, and Yakov had already entrusted Victor with a key, so if he was waiting for them to leave so he could lock up, Yuri was going to scream, damn it. He had better things to do than wait around for the lovebirds to finish up whatever they were doing in there. Like some good one on one with Potya or some facetime with Otabek. 

 

Still fidgeting, Yuri glanced at the woman who had been standing nearby ever since he'd exited the building. She was wearing sunglasses and chewing gum rather loudly, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail at her nape. 

 

He wondered who she was. For all he knew Georgi was still dating Galina, and he couldn't remember if any of his exes looked like this woman. "Are you waiting for someone?" he finally asked, hoping he didn't just doom himself into a boring conversation or a potential screaming session from a fangirl...fanwoman.

 

She turned to look at him, surprised, and smiled with a hint of sheepishness. "Yes, I'm waiting for my son," she replied.

 

"Is he a hockey player or something?" Yuri asked, mildly confused since she didn't look old enough to have a kid  _his_ age. 

 

"...No, he's actually-"

 

The rink doors opened behind Yuri, and he turned to see Victor and Yuuri walking out together. Victor's eyes fell on the woman, and Yuri watched as a ridiculously wide smile appeared on his face. "Mama! There you are!" he exclaimed.

 

Had Yuri been drinking something he was sure he would have spat it out in his shock as Victor's words sank in.  _What the **fuck?!**_ He looked between them in disbelief, trying to figure out just how badly he'd miscalculated her age, especially if she had a kid as old as fucking Victor.

 

"Hello, Vitya," she greeted, both of them moving into a hug that confused Yuri further still. Victor's old man had died a month ago, and apparently meeting his mother had gone better than anyone thought it would. Whatever had happened, neither Victor or the pig were giving away a ton of details, save for tiny things like Victor showing his piggy husband something his mom had texted him, getting a laugh out of both of them. It wasn't anything they'd expected, and Yakov looked grumpier than usual whenever he happened to be around for moments like that. But hell, Yuri never expected to even _meet_ the woman. He kept watching as the woman went to hug Yuuri next, shocking him further still. "It's good to see you, Yuuri."

 

What the fresh hell.

 

Just months ago the two idiots were trying to get over the fact that Victor's parents weren't going to show up at their wedding. A month ago Victor looked like he would rather pawn his medals than go see his mother. Now they were...hugging. Yuuri, looking more at ease than he had a month ago, was smiling at Victor's mother and said in his accented Russian, "I hope you had a good trip."

 

"It wasn't terrible," she replied with a toss of her hair. "I forgot how awful the traffic can be here."

 

Small talk. Mother. Fucking. Small talk. Blinking owlishly, Yuri finally caught Victor's gaze and asked in utter outrage, " _THIS IS YOUR MOM!?"_

 

Victor, damn him, looked surprised that Yuri was there, and beamed as he pointed his mother towards the younger skater. "Mama, this is our rinkmate, Yuri Plisetsky."

 

She took her glasses off, revealing eyes the exact blue shade as Victor's, and the fact that Yuri had very grossly underestimated her age. Victor was almost thirty, for fuck's sake, and she looked like she drank from the same water source as the piggy's ballet teacher! She smiled at him, the expression contradicting his expectation of a hag three times worse than Lilia could ever be. "It's nice to meet you," she said, looking about as harmless as a kitten, and it was almost easy to imagine her pulling up to pick up a kid-sized Victor from school.

 

Almost. There was still the fact that she and her dead husband refused to come to her kid's wedding.

 

He was about to reply when the doors opened again, and Yakov emerged, growling, "Yuri, don't dawdle. Lilia's expecting..." He trailed off when he spotted the woman among them, and Yuri watched his eyes narrow before he said in cold tones, "Nadezhda Nikiforova."

 

Yuri tensed, feeling just how quickly the mood had shifted. His gaze fell on Victor, who suddenly looked caught between their coach and his mother. Yuuri was blinking nervously, eyes darting between Victor and his mother. To her credit, Nadezhda Nikiforova looked right at Yakov, her eyes bearing that same heat of determination that often appeared in Victor's. "Coach Feltsman. It's good to see you again," she said, polite and distant.

 

Oh, shit. Now Yuri knew where Victor got that from.

 

He didn't need to look at Yakov to see the disdain that so obviously flowed off of him in waves. "My condolences for your husband's death," he said gruffly. "I'm glad Victor was able to be there for you."

 

Something was going unsaid, and Yuri knew no one was going to be telling him what it was anytime soon. Yuuri looked uncomfortable and Victor's gaze was beseeching as he looked at Yakov. Yuri caught how the woman's hand tightened on her purse strap, and she replied in a tight voice, "Thank you."

 

And then Yakov turned to walk away with a growled, "We're leaving, Yuri."

 

 _Thank fuck._ Yuri started to follow Yakov, but not before quickly muttering to his rinkmates, "I'll see you."

 

He turned to go after Yakov, but not before seeing the way Victor's hand settle on top of his mother's shoulder.

 

What in the hell had happened to them?

 

* * *

 

 

**Mari**

 

Now Mari was quite fond of her brother.

 

Her cute, talented, lucky, smart brother.

 

Her brother, who had apparently forgotten to let her know that something pretty fucking important was going to be happening soon. Something that had the ability to turn Yu-Topia on its head if they didn't proceed carefully. 

 

Her brother, who she was going to kill if it turned out that he  _knew_ this was going to happen.

 

"Stop frowning," her mother was saying to her as she walked past her carrying a tray of beer. "She's a guest, remember? A very special guest."

 

Mari gave her a dry glance, muttering, "And do you remember how she and her husband didn't want to come watch Yuuri and Victor get married?"

 

Her mother shushed her sharply. "Of course I remember," she replied, a soft frown on her face. "When I think of all those times we badgered Vicchan about getting to know his parents...But Yuuri told us everything is alright between them now, and I'm sure that if he'd known she was coming he would've let us know," she explained reasonably.

 

"So...you and Dad are going to act like nothing's off?" Mari asked, peering into the dining area and at the Russian woman's profile. She looked way too fucking young to have a son who was pushing thirty, so she could only guess at how old she'd been when she got knocked up. She showed up early in the afternoon, greeting Mari's father at the front desk in halting English, her accent immediately familiar. For a moment it was as if Victor had shown up for the first time again, only this woman had a reasonable amount of luggage with her and there was no dog in sight.

 

Mari and Toshiya had both gaped at her, forgetting their manners, when she introduced herself as Nadezhda Nikiforova, Victor's mother.

 

"She's Vicchan's mother," Hiroko was saying, wanting her to understand. "Yuuri said she's been very kind to him now that they've gotten to know each other better. It's a shame none of this was resolved before her husband died." 

 

Yeah, a real shame. Hell, if they hadn't been such assholes about everything Mari wouldn't feel like glaring at the woman whenever they crossed paths. "I'm checking in with Yuuri," she murmured, taking her phone out and finding their chat log.

 

"Mari, don't bother him! He and Vicchan just got home from a competition!" 

 

"Then it's good I'm catching them now," Mari said, peering into the dining area again and finding Nadezhda in the perfect position to take a quick photo of her. She darted away, dodging her mother's shocked face, and started typing furiously.

 

**Mari:**

**Call me as soon as you see this**

**And you'd BETTER NOT HAVE KNOWN SHE WAS COMING**

**I'D HATE TO KILL YOU WEEKS BEFORE YOUR 26th BIRTHDAY**

**YUURI**

**DID VICTOR PLAN THIS???!?**

 

She sent it off along with the photo attachment, and got ready to wait.

 

Fortunately she didn't have to wait long. Twenty minutes later her phone vibrated with a notification.

 

**Yuuri:**

**Oh my god**

**Mari I swear I didn't know**

**Victor didn't know either. I asked him and he swore to god that she didn't say anything to him.**

**He's panicking and he's wondering whether or not to call her**

 

**Mari:**

**FACETIME**

**NOW**

 

She called him, quickly heading to her bedroom and shutting the door behind her before he answered the call, his panicked face filling the screen.

 

"Mari, what the hell is going- _Victor!"_

 

Victor shoved his face in beside Yuuri's, looking paler than usual, and exclaimed, " _When did she get there!?_ For the love of God, when she talked about taking a trip she said she couldn't decide between Sydney or Cancun! I didn't think she'd-"

 

"She got here this afternoon," Mari interrupted. "She checked in and just casually mentioned that she was your mother!" She paused to take a breath, rubbing her temple and wishing her cigarettes were nearby. "No one's yelling at anyone. Mom and Dad were surprised, but then they turned into their usual hospitable selves."

 

"I'm calling her," Victor said with finality, his face disappearing and leaving only Yuuri's dazed face.

 

Mari sighed and leaned back into the door as she stared at her brother on the screen. "...I've got to say, though, she's been polite."

 

"You weren't actually expecting her to be so terrible, were you?" Yuuri asked her, looking like he was starting to relax after Mari's explosive message.

 

"Well, a little," she muttered. "It's kind of hard to shake off that impression after she broke my little brother's heart. Victor's too."

 

"She's trying to make up for it," he said, sitting down on their couch. "She might have an easier time with Mom and Dad. Coach Yakov doesn't seem to like her much," he admitted.

 

"Ouch." Mari got to her feet with a grunt, feeling all thirty two of her years. 

 

"And... _nee-chan_ , can you do me a favor?"

 

"Yeah, what?"

 

"Do you think you could avoid smoking around her? She quit after Victor's father died."

 

Mari sank back down to the floor with a whine.

 

* * *

 

 

_"Mama?"_

 

_"Yes, Vitya?"_

 

_"Mama, are you really in Hasetsu right now?"_

 

_"Now how did you know that?"_

 

_"I have my sources."_

 

_"Your sister-in-law?"_

 

_"I thought you were planning on going someplace...I don't know, warmer!"_

 

_"Were you trying to keep me away from here, synok?"_

 

_"No! No, that's not it, it's just...You surprised me."_

 

_"That's fair. I want to keep building bridges, Vitya, and these people care about you. I would have told you I was planning this, but I only just decided a week ago and you have competitions..."_

 

_"How long are you staying? We could see each other when we get there for Yuuri's birthday in a few weeks."_

 

_"I'd like that. Vitya?"_

 

_"Yes?"_

 

_"Tell me everything you liked about this place when you first got here."_

 

_"...Yes! Yes, do you have something to write on? God, there was so much! Are you ready?"_

 

_"I'm ready."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it.
> 
> Thank you all for your encouragement. Working on this fic has been awesome. I hope you all enjoyed it.
> 
> Comments please!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are fuel!!
> 
> Yell at me on tumblr: **aeriamamaduck**


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